


Find Me and Follow Me

by chicagoartnerd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, F/F, Femslash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/chicagoartnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly doesn't know any one else who believes in fate. As it turns out she's the only one who actually knows what's going on. Sherlock and Irene agree to use Molly as messenger to exchange the phone but after meeting her Irene decides she wants two for the price of one. And through a daring escape Molly and Irene find they have more in common than just the acquaintance of one Sherlock Holmes. High class magical lady adventuring ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find Me and Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for Sherlock Big Bang 2012. There is some cover art done for it by amoralambiguity. You can see it here. http://amoralambiguity.livejournal.com/163624.html

 

 

 

 Her Majesty’s Secret Service was waiting in the wings to come and save her. Yet Molly felt oddly alone.

The streets were cold, the sky blowing down fat raindrops sideways as she wobbled towards the pre-arranged meeting spot. 

A situation like this should have been nerve-wracking and terrifying, she was about to meet a criminal mastermind and get caught up in what was quite possibly about to become an international incident.

She wasn’t nervously biting her lip and shifting from foot to foot while waiting to cross various avenues.

Her mood was serenely numb in the cold wet surroundings of East London. 

She had been nervous when a crowd of agents and Sherlock Holmes had descended on her at Bart’s but after everything was explained she had agreed without hesitation. This was something her life had lacked for a few years, excitement and purpose.

Sure she did some small corner of good as a lab technician in the morgue but nothing like what Sherlock could do in a single afternoon. And he had asked her to help. She could be useful for a change, well useful for things other than coffee and her electron microscope.

The pre-arranged meet-up was a café. A small cozy place over an antiques shop on Hackney road.  

Her pink and green spotted wellies squeaked too loudly as she entered and shook off her coat to hang on a hook by the door. After taking off her jacket she shivered. They had instructed her to dress and act naturally so she wasn’t wearing anything nearly as nice as the woman seated past the coffee bar.

The café wasn’t crowded and Molly knew immediately that the stylish lady was whom she was here to see. Dressed in a slim black Givenchy dress it could be no other than Irene Adler. The Woman.

Her throat ran dry as she approached and sat down carefully across from her at the small round table. They had showed her a picture, had mentioned that she was wanted for trying to black mail some one important. Sherlock had even been, “informative” enough to show her Irene’s website, which didn’t really bear thinking on in public especially right now. Molly was met with round Chanel sunglasses and a thin red smile.

“Hello. You must be Miss Hooper.”

She tried not to squint but she did look a bit like the corpse on the slab. Certainly Sherlock hadn’t been fooled so easily. Even if he was only looking at, well her body.

The woman before her was alive and trying very hard to mask the circles under her eyes with concealer.

Molly nodded briskly and tried to calm her fidgeting hands by clasping them hard in her lap. She had no reason to be intimidated. She was a messenger who would have others do her shooting for her if she needed it. But she probably wouldn’t. None of the usual portents were present so she was safe. Probably.

Not one of her so-called “friends” warned her about one Jim Moriarty.

It still gave her nightmares that she had let him sit on her couch with her and pet Toby. But then that was one of the perils of being something of an oracle she supposed.  

Irene simply smiled catlike and all teeth. Lowering her glasses she practically purred in an accent that was Essex with a smear of something rougher,

“I’m sure you already know who I am but why be unpleasant. Irene Adler, charmed.”

She didn’t take her proffered hand. Instead she stared nervously in every direction and space that wasn’t the woman across from her and ended up resting her eyes on Irene’s coffee. There was no need to be rude but she couldn’t think of anything to say, “Hey so Sherlock’s seen you naked, gee I wish he hadn’t of.” Didn’t seem terribly appropriate and she often struggled with the brain/mouth filter.

Especially when the conversation was about/with/or around one Sherlock Holmes. That really needed to stop as far as she was concerned.

Irene noticed her staring at the cup immediately of course and raised it to her lips. Slightly mesmerized Molly’s eyes followed as she licked them clean of the delicate foam atop her espresso,

“It’s called a Flat White. They’re quite delectable. Would you care for one?”

Her voice snapped her out whatever trance she had momentarily gone under. She instead shook her head and said as firmly as she could muster,

“No thanks. Shouldn’t we just exchange the phone?”

There was a flash of white teeth again and this time instead of lowering her glasses she removed them fully,

“Are you in a hurry Miss Hooper? Some other meet cute to attend perhaps?”

She flinched but didn’t sputter,

“No it’s just I don’t make a habit of being party to criminal activity very often and it’s frankly quite exhausting.”

There was no smile this time but her bright blue eyes did flash with sly mirth,

“Well I’m sure if you made a habit of it you wouldn’t find it quite so tiring. These sorts of activities get easier with practice.”

“Really? Then why is it you look like you could use a good nights’ sleep?”

She clamped her mouth shut painfully.

She hadn’t meant to say that. She hadn’t meant to say anything but something about the woman across from her was making her angry. It might have had to do with how she was very obviously manipulating her and Sherlock and every one else who was involved in this situation.

Or it could have been the fact that Sherlock was so enamored with Irene while taking her entirely for granted all the time.

That thought was like a dose of cold water behind her eyes. Jealousy was an evil thing that often blinded even the best intentions her grandmother’s voice intoned in her head and she might not have been imagining it, her grandmum was dead after all. Yes Irene was blackmailing the entire British crown for what seemed like for fun, but why was she really doing it?

For all her perceived naiveté Molly was not dumb.

Giving up some level of pretense Irene leaned forward, her eyes hard,

“Did Sherlock tell you exactly why I want that phone back?”

She bit her lip. She knew it had information on it that could be used to blackmail a great many powerful people but beyond that they had told her very little.

Most likely in an attempt to protect her.

At the moment she doubted it was doing her much good.  There were several reasons why Irene would want the phone back and none of them were good for any of the parties involved, especially Ms. Adler.

When she didn’t respond other than to shift slightly Irene leaned back and looked at her appraisingly,

“That phone is my life Miss Hooper. The information contained within protects me and my people from those who would rather I never have known it as well as people who would use it for their own ends.”

“And to what ‘ends’ do you use this information?”

The words kept slipping from her tongue as if strangely compelled by some spell but this time she was less mortified and more curious.

“I simply use them for protection of various sorts. Sometimes that protection is monetary or the favor of a free flight to Dubai or forged passports to the U.S.”

“I let my employers know where they stand with me and if they feel the need to threaten or entrap I deal with them accordingly. Otherwise I simply live my life as any other person with ambition would. Also I have a great deal of fun.”

She wanted to ask what was “fun” for her but from John’s description of The Woman she wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was candid and something filthy. 

Instead Molly reached into her purse and produced the rather expensive looking piece of aforementioned electronics. Irene’s eyes practically glowed when she saw it and Molly simply extended it to her.

No nonsense and ready to get this over with.

Irene stared for a beat before reaching out to take it, running her fingers delicately over Molly’s palm as she took it.

There was a quick jolt.

 Molly looked into her eyes to find the tired feline mask gone to reveal one of shock. Quickly it shuttered back into place,

“Thank you Miss Hooper. But I’m afraid our exchange is not quite over yet.”

She scowled and backed up her chair slightly but Irene simply smiled effortlessly and continued to speak as if nothing had happened,

“It seems that Big Brother is very concerned and feels the need to nanny you on this endeavor. Which I was expecting but this is going to get complicated exceedingly quickly. So I’m going to help you Miss Molly.”

She winked after that last bit and it caused her to swallow nervously.

All she had to do was move suddenly and the whole café would be swarming with blokes with guns. But instead she watched silently as Irene leaned in close, practically whispering in her ear,

“You’re going to go to the bathroom to report in that the phone has been exchanged or what ever code they have given you for the all clear and I’m going to order another coffee. That is all.”

That couldn’t be all there was to it.

Something was going to either happen in the café or the bathroom and she was either trying to get her out of the way or put her in the way.

But nothing strange had happened. Well nothing stranger than her being part of some sort of international espionage affair.

            Well none of her strange had happened while she was there with Irene. Muriel or her other “friends” weren’t around so nothing life threatening to her was going to happen. That didn’t mean that others wouldn’t die, or that what was about to happen wouldn’t be bad. Ghosts were sometimes pragmatic; their judgment of a bad time was often a little bit off from what the living considered a bad time.  

Sighing, she complied and slowly stood to walk off carefully to the bathroom, keeping her strides normal and measured.

Molly heard the door click shut and wasn’t as surprised as she should have been to see the pretty red headed woman exit the stall in front of her, not say a word, and motion her to climb out the back window.

Molly hesitated and when she didn’t follow the instruction the woman rolled her eyes and lifted the corner of her smart pea coat back to reveal a rather large gun.  Irene seemed to have realized they had the place bugged so that at the slightest panic word from her they would storm the building. 

Oddly being kidnapped seemed exciting rather than terrifying but that was probably the adrenaline talking.  Her voice didn’t waiver,

“Objective mobile complete. All clear for extraction.”

There was the disorienting pop of a flash bomb going off in the café and the sound of screams from behind the door.

The redheaded woman grabbed her by the arm and violently jerked her out the back window of the bathroom.

She stumbled blindly out in to the empty alley and tried not to fall on her face as they crossed several adjoining streets and alleys to a prim black Lexus waiting behind a skip. 

She shoved Molly into the back seat shut the door and opened the front and started the car in three swift jerks. 

A sick feeling came to her. Things had just gone horribly sideways and the only way this was ending was, in all likelihood, her death. 

But eerily enough she knew that wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened to her.

Being dead was at most times a relief, living with uncertainty and pain was by far the worse state of being. She had learned this lesson many years ago and it had made her solid in the world. Things and people shifted mercurially around her but she remained the same.

Poor, mousy, drab, Molly. Cute, naïve, and horrendously outmatched by the world. Little did they know that she was what an immovable object looked like. Something ancient and carved from stone, she had seen the face of death everyday in more ways than just a professional capacity and had smiled sadly and continued on.

Molly did all that she could for those who muddled through and for those that passed on because she didn’t know what else to do.  It wasn’t in her nature to use the interesting talent she possessed for ill.

Although a few choice moments in her life had shockingly proved that it could be used to harm, destroy, and change the very nature of the present.  

The smell of acrid smoke stung the back of her throat and she jerked away from that memory.

The car made a smooth stop at a nondescript warehouse and her driver’s side back door opened. The Woman, Ms. Adler herself slid in fluidly next to her and smiled,

“Alright Thessaly they’ll be expecting us at the airstrip so we will instead be taking the train.”

The driver, Thessaly, nodded and they were once again on the move. It seemed she was well and truly stuck. They were either going to kill her now or use her as leverage by taking her with them.

Either way it probably was going to be unpleasant. She felt that every one back at command was panicking, expecting her to cry, shut down in a timid heap, or worse be dead.

Surprisingly, everyone underestimated her except Mycroft’s assistant Anthea.  She had given her a list of numbers to phone in that would alert them to her status and location. Anthea had suggested a tracking device be put on her but Myrcoft had insisted that was unnecessary and that Ms. Adler would be prepared to detect that sort of thing any way. Anthea had been right.

Why didn’t any one ever listen to women?

It wasn’t just her wall-flower self that got ignored, it seemed like a lot of problems with this operation, and life in general, could have been solved by listening to all parties present not just one of a certain gender.

 In her experience women were much cleverer and stronger than men, they were just forced to hide it behind facades and constructs deemed lesser and unworthy. She smiled ruefully at the references from her feminist theory class in pre med.

“Do you find kidnapping exciting Ms. Hooper? I myself think it’s rather less exciting for the kidnapee rather than the kidnapper but I haven’t had the grace to be kidnapped in a great while so things might have changed.”

            It belatedly occurred to her that she should be acting afraid, out of her wits, begging them to let her go. Apparently that ship had just sailed. She sighed,

“I don’t see the point in panicking. There seems to be nothing I could do either way to stop you from doing whatever it is you’re about to do with me. So I was imagining a happier place.”

            The last part was a lie but it was a good sort of lie. The kind that was close enough to the truth to believable.

Irene turned to face her full on,

“Well there are plenty of things you could do to change your situation. You could attempt to break out of the side door and roll out of a moving car. You could try to attack me and make Thessaly stop the car and unlock the door.”

“ You could be extra clever and attack Thessaly making her crash the car and allowing you the possibility of escape or a quick death. Really my dear it’s like you’re not even trying.”

Molly supposed she wasn’t and Irene was much too quick to have missed that. There. That was the reason Sherlock seemed more than slightly smitten with her.

She saw and she observed. Irene could deduce people like Sherlock could. That made the pit of her stomach wobble a little. But it wasn’t in fear.

She looked away.

“So lets be honest with each other shall we? I plan to go on a train to Italy where I will then catch a flight to Toronto Canada. At which point I will meet with my next mark and retrieve what was asked of me to Istanbul.”

“ Now the choice is yours; you can come with me and have one hell of a vacation, or you can go back to your morgue and your unrequited love.”

“The choice is entirely up to you.”

“Why?”

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow,

“Interesting. You don’t know do you? You couldn’t feel it when we touched? How I have been searching for years. All over the world and yet you have been waiting there in London, in a morgue perfectly content to be invisible for the rest of your life.”

She stiffened but didn’t respond so the soft touch on the side of her face made her jump. The touch immediately withdrew along with Irene who gave her more space in the backseat,

“I thought he might have been like me and oh he is brilliant but it’s not the same. And then they send a little dove for a messenger. And low she is secretly a lion just like me.”

There was that nauseous feeling again, she could only be talking about one thing and yet the way she was saying it was so convoluted and slightly erotic in nature. But maybe that was how all things were with Irene.

Molly didn’t know anything about the woman sitting next to her and all the people she cared about had left her pathetically uninformed as usual. It hurt but she was used to that particular ache.

“What can you do? It’s not something explosive otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in this car with me; no it has to be something subtler. Not manipulation, unless of course Thessaly is driving us in concentric circles towards Scottland Yard. You’re not are you Thessaly?”

“No.”

“Ah but that’s what you would be saying if Miss Molly was controlling your mind.”

“Perhaps you can speak to objects, they tell you their history, their lives? No? But I’m  closer. I want to try and guess so don’t tell me. Let’s see,”

Molly moved in closer and she turned to her and said grimly,

“The dead speak to me. Sometimes dead bodies, sometimes just ghosts.”

Irene stopped, threw her head back, and joyfully cackled,

“Oh that’s just perfect! That’s absolutely the most predictable power for a coroner to have. Tell me is that why you became a morgue technician dear?”

“Kind of. I had always had a fascination with death, not in causing it but in understanding it. But when they started telling me things I knew the only way to help them and have any one take me seriously was to work for the hospital or the police.”

“Do they force you to help them? Yell and scream or haunt you until you do?”

“No. But they are lost and sad and if I help them they move on and find peace. It’s the right thing to do. Living is bad enough. Why should you have to suffer when you’re dead?”

This made the mirth leave Irene’s face. And it was replaced by a curiously calculating look. Molly knew that look well and had only felt it directed at her once.

Sherlock had only truly glanced at her when they first met and deduced everything he had ever wanted or needed to know about her right then. But she knew, now that Irene had surmised her power somehow, that she would be on the receiving end of deductions much more often.

It was exciting. She was excited and suddenly she knew why.

“What’s your ability then? Something like Sherlock’s, the ability to read people and instantly know anything about them?”

Irene did smile coldly at that,

“Oh no. The power of deduction is not the same as the talents you and I posses. Sherlock is wonderful but he is regrettably human. Where as, shockingly, we are a tad bit more.”

That was why she had seemed so interested in the Holmes brothers.

 Irene had been searching for others like herself.

Once when she was younger Molly had imagined she wasn’t the only one who could do this, couldn’t be, but she had never wanted to go looking for these other people. Doing so would mean exposing her own gift and she didn’t want to do that.

Thinking back that was probably why she had spent most of her adult life alone except for one extraordinarily acquired cat. 

It took a great amount of trust and truth to open intimacy with people. And how could she do that if she was hiding a fundamental part of her nature all the time?  Because as much as she tried to separate “Medium Molly,” “Cute Coroner Molly,”and " Awkward Homebody Molly,” they all seemed to be too closely intermingled.

“So now that you’ve found some one like yourself you’re going to what? Take me out of my life and force me in to yours? What about my job? My friends? My cat?”

Waving her hand she scoffed,

“The job that doesn’t pay you nearly enough, works you to exhaustion and long hours? The friends that pity you behind your back or walk all over you because you are inherently nice and accommodating? As for Toby he is waiting in a cat carrier on the train platform along with some of your less hideous clothing.”

“ Molly you own far too much tacky flower pattern for some one your age. Of course this is assuming you decided to come along. Who knows, you might surprise us both and say you don’t want to.”

She was relieved to hear that Toby was coming with her. He didn’t have any one else but her in the world.  

About a year ago there had been a 90-year-old woman who had come in, she had passed away in her sleep of natural causes so Molly was surprised to find her spirit haunting the morgue frantically. When she finally got her to settle down she explained that her cat was all-alone at home and that some how the ambulance technicians had missed seeing it there and that it might be starving by now. Instead of calling one of the officers to go get it she got the old woman’s address and broke in her back porch window. Toby came up to her and started meowing and rubbing her legs immediately.

They had been inseparable ever since. The ghost had moved on peacefully after thanking her and she now had some one to come home to everyday.

But she bristled at the rest of it. Her life might have been tiny and modest but it was not insignificant.

There were people alive and dead who were grateful for her help. The strength and power she wielded wasn’t obvious and showy like Sherlock’s but it certainly wasn’t anything to belittle.  And yet she could feel the will to leave slipping away. Her curiosity and her desire for a true open dialogue with an equal seemed to be stopping her. Even though she had effectively been kidnapped. Maybe this was how Stockholm syndrome started.

Irene was watching her and seemed to pick up instantly on her defensive posture,

“I do not in any way mean to suggest that your old life was not important. What I was implying though is that every one around you didn’t seem to think so. You were toiling away thanklessly. And they used you as bait.”

 Somehow she doubted it was going to be as simple and as easy as Irene was making it sound. She was being kidnapped, because even if she decided to go voluntarily it was still very coercive on Irene’s part. And she would become party to some high-class crimes maybe even murder. Something she was vehemently against.

Also who knew what else could happen to her if the implications of Irene’s sexual endeavors were anything to go by. Not that that was something she was thinking of.

 “I tend to like my holidays better when I choose to go on them.”

This elicited a creeping grin from Irene and she turned her eyes out of the tinted glass windows,

“Yes but tell me when was the last time you voluntarily asked for a holiday, even taken one single day off from work?”

“I was sick one day two years back with a violent stomach flu.”

Realizing how pathetic that sounded she blushed and looked down at her wellies as they soaked black water in to the plush carpet of the car’s floor.  

She should have been hyperventilating; she should have been concerned for her safety.

Even more disturbingly she wondered if any one would miss her and how hard exactly they would try to rescue her.

“On my honor as a woman and an Englishman I guarantee no harm shall come to you at my hand or the hand of any one in my employ. And if you follow my very loose instructions then no harm shall come to you at the hands of clients and outside parties I'm sure.”

The slumping continued in full force. It seemed like everything had been planned so meticulously in advance.

If Irene had a mind anything like Sherlock’s or Mycroft’s then it proabably had. There was nothing she could do in this situation; she tried to call on some of her usual guides. They tended to come when she asked but often they were off on their own errands. When none responded she lightly banged her head against the window and sighed.

“What do you say? Are you game for a little adventure?”

When Molly didn’t respond she started again,

“Would you like to guess what I can do?”

“Not particularly. If it has anything to with making time go quicker I wished it worked on me.”

She hadn’t really meant to be so rude but she was already exhausted from the entire situation. Sleep seemed like a valid alternative to being awake and having to deal with the implications of getting kidnapped by an internationally hunted information thief and dominatrix.  Irene seemed not to notice though because she brightened right up at the question.

“Nothing so exotic. I’m a touch telepath. It’s an interesting way for me to get information that one cannot deduce by simply observing and piecing together the actions of others. It’s part the reason I am so good at my job.”

“Do you consider stealing a job then?”

“No dear stealing is more a hobby for me. Doming is my job.”

She smirked and the sarcastic bite was obvious there. Molly clasped and unclasped her hands hard in her lap.

She was curious but didn’t feel like further indulging Irene. So she remained silent. They reached the train and Thessaly handed her a beautifully felted red cloche hat and told her to put it on before leaving the car.

It was probably meant to hide her hair and face from CCTV cameras, not that she was particularly noticeable. Her last boyfriend before Jim had described her as “brilliantly ordinary.” He was off on one of those. Ordinary she had never been.

They walked briskly from the lot down towards the tracks, Thessaly presented all three of their tickets to the train attendant and they boarded while valets loaded their luggage on to the car behind where they were seated.

She had never traveled first class on a train before. Traveling was a luxury she didn’t indulge in very often. In fact that last time she had been on a cross-country train had been when she moved from Northern England to London to start at Uni. That had been nine years ago.

Thessaly did a sweep of their car for, well she wasn’t sure what she was checking for but she brushed Irene’s arm before exiting the car and walking down to coach.

They had the private cabin to themselves and Irene stretched out on the plush bench across from her kicking off her high heels and looking gleefully at her phone.

There was once again nothing for her to do but look around the empty cabin and at the drawn black curtains longingly. 

Now she wished she had a nice book or even something to write in. Irene might have something for her to do but she imagined it would involve a lot of invasive questions or possibly other invasive things. Molly shuddered. And tried hard not to blush.

She wasn’t virginal by any stretch of the imagination but she also stuck to what most people would consider pretty conventional sexual appetites.  Kink had never really played in to that part of her life but she was curious.

That seemed to be a weakness of people like her. Because as much as Sherlock would be loathe to admit it, he and Molly and yes Irene, were all cut from a very similar cloth.

Those fascinated with humanity in all of its workings especially why it chose to act violently and why it chose to kill. Sherlock found it a puzzle, Irene found it a living, and Molly found it a crusade of sorts. Where Sherlock solved crimes because he was bored she solved them because it would be terrible not to.  

She didn’t really believe in heaven or hell per say. Molly knew there was peace for those who died, even the bad ones so she wasn’t too terribly worried about what would happen to her.

But she was concerned with suffering. Whether it was the suffering of the grieving or the suffering of a lost ghost she wanted to do everything in her power to ease it.

“Are you really that bothered by me? I have been nothing but courteous to you since our meeting. It’s hurtful the way you’re giving me the curt and cold shoulder.”

She raised an eyebrow,

“You kidnapped me. I think most people would consider me quite a civil captive.”

Irene sighed dramatically and turned to face her grinning slyly over the tops of her fingers. The gesture was so familiar she suddenly felt very small and overwhelmed.

“You’re free to go darling. You can get off this train and wander the station. In no time one of Big Brother’s men will find you.”

“And you won’t do anything to chase me? You would just let me go right now after you’ve spent so long looking for some one, who could do things, that weren’t…. normal.”

The grin widened and reached her eyes,

“Oh I would keep tabs on you. Make sure no one bothered you, be your guardian from afar. But if that was your answer to my offer, what you really wanted, I would let you go back to your life and tiny lab right now.”

She looked towards the curtains again and shifted in her seat. She didn’t actually doubt her word. And yet she couldn’t make her legs pick her up and carry her away.

 Curiosity.

It would be the end of her, just hopefully not Toby even though he was a cat.

“Why are we going to Canada?”

Her grin was beautiful; she knew she had her at “we.” Some how they were both ensnared. Irene had just realized it instantly and accepted it as the state of reality whereas it had taken Molly longer to realize she did want to know more about the con-woman in front of her.

“I came to London to sell some information and was introduced to man who showed me the wondrous Sherlock Holmes. He turned out to be a spider and is part of the reason why we are currently on our way to Canada. He got what he wanted and hopefully will forget me for now.”

“Moriarty.”

Irene looked stunned but then smoothed out her features before nodding,

“Do you know why I lost interest with Sherlock and his brother and am endlessly fascinated by you?”

When she didn’t respond Irene pushed forward,

“They are men who desperately aspire to be more than human. We are women who are and will forever be overlooked.”

“When I was younger that enraged me but rather than let it destroy me I used the anonymity to my advantage. I took their expectations of my fragility, guilelessness, mental inferiority, and weakness and used it to take advantage of them.”

“And they begged you to do it.”

The pleased expression only flickered briefly on her face before being replaced with her usual smirk,

“Power dynamics in professional life and in the bedroom are two separate things that are often confused. But in both domains I shall keep them begging to be sure.”

 There was nothing really different about Molly other than an ability that she had been born with. She still tried to do right by her friends and family, loved cats and comfy jumpers, didn’t know too much about makeup or high-end shoes, and was living but rarely lived.

 Just like every one else she knew, well almost every one else.

Sherlock burned so bright he was in danger of blinding her and then extinguishing himself. But she tried not to think of him so often.

She was equal parts sorry for him and in love with him and it was a sad and dangerous place to be.

“So is it all a game then? Or perhaps The Game? I’ve heard him refer to it like that when he’s excited and on the trail of a murderer.”

“I suppose it is for him, perhaps for both of them the way they dance about with each other. But for me it is using my abilities to support the life style I wish to have. It’s job security Miss Molly. It’s survival.”

“ Which is why I will always win. While they play with lives and fortunes like they’re chess pawns I covet them. Take them and protect them for myself and the people I care about.”

That was surprising. At every opportunity he would always prattle about how sentiment was a weakness. Sherlock claimed not to care for any one but any one who knew him and John could see what a big lie that was.

“So what am I in all this?”

Her blue eyes practically glowed and she leaned forward into her space,

“Can’t you feel it? The sense of something being slotted in to place? Gears being set in to motion? You are the first person I’ve met whose thoughts I can’t read like an open book. The feeling is relaxing and invigorating at the same time.”

“Why did you go looking? Wasn’t it enough to have your Gift and use it get what you want?”

It was like Molly had physically slapped her. She recoiled and then stared piercingly at her from across the car, leaning against the soft black drapes. She didn’t move letting her cutting stare roam over her, deducing.

But she would find the same things Sherlock did when he first looked her over. Normal, boring, had little interests outside of work and crap telly, kept to herself, had friends that were more like acquaintances, fondest companion was an orange tabby cat, rarely talked to what family she had left as there were no phones in their homes.  

Irene already knew about her Gift. The only thing that made her a little different. And the way she used it wasn’t very interesting to any one who looked too long. She was sure if someone more daring, or malicious, had her gift they could use it with some serious destructive force.  But that had never interested her.

The one time she had used it selfishly had haunted her for the rest of her life. They had shown her something she shouldn’t have seen.  She shivered, even though the memory was of fire and heat and looked at Irene from the corner of her eye. But she caught her gaze and they locked, suddenly the voices came again.

_Go, go, go, feel, see, shine._

Their call was like soft fingers running down her cheek and neck.

They weren’t usually this gentle unless they wanted to show her something. She felt the familiar dry sensation cutting into her eyes and knew that she hadn’t blinked for too long already.

It was too late to try and tell them no, she had started walking out of the cabin. Not in body but in spirit. You couldn’t go with them if you were still flesh. She supposed that was what the true nature of her gift was.

Hers was the ability to separate her spirit from flesh and thus move, see, and know as ghosts’ did. But she used her humanity, her living body, to help them touch things they no longer could.

Flesh, family, relationships, justice, closure, all the ties that had been severed when they died.  Muriel was waiting for her there at the crossroads like she always was. Molly knew she was other places all the time, simultaneously, but couldn’t help but feel a sense of homecoming every time she met her in The Gray. It was the in-between world that was a way stop for most things dead and going that way.

“I came. You called earlier but it wasn’t the time. Now we can show you.”

She nodded and followed the kindly looking elderly woman in to the low hanging mists.  Molly had only seen her truest form once but it was still burned behind her eyes glowing like the after image of the sun.

She could no longer just see Muriel as a grandmotherly guardian, she was so much more, as every being she had come in contact with over the years was. That was why she tried not to look at anything too closely while out of her body. Seeing some one’s true essence burned her raw and could either be painfully beautiful or agonizingly nightmare inducing. She tended to avoid it.  

The scenery shifted around her and showed the whole of England. It was dotted with bright glowing lights too small in number to be street lamps and cities but it still reminded her of the pictures she had seem of the country from space.

She tired not to think too hard about maybe being in outer space, not having a body allowed for many strange things to happen without worry.

“What are the lights?”

Muriel smiled and they zoomed out to show the whole Northern Hemisphere,

“They are ones with the Gift. Each is unique and different. Some cannot hide it,”

She pointed at a light in what looked like the Midwest of America as it guttered like dying candle flame.

“And they either burn too brightly and die or are snuffed out by forces that rather they didn’t exist.”

The light went out and she gasped. Feeling the pain of it in her chest where her heart would have been if she had still been in her body.  The comforting warmth of Muriel engulfed her from all sides,

“Shhhh luv, it’s alright. They are at peace now. But see your number. You are many unknowns to each other but there will come a day soon when you will be known. The world will shift on that day.”

The scene moved back to a London street, a man she didn’t recognize was cursing at his brolly as he tried to open it in the pouring rain.

He was glowing like one of the little dots of light. Like the bright golden yellow of the sun off a field of wheat, like a Van Gogh painting she had seen in the National Gallery as a girl.  The urge to reach out and touch him, make the connection was almost overwhelming.

But another slunk out of the alley to his left, it was pale and hideous and dragged the light from his shoulders like a shroud being ripped off. He drained of all color and coughed and stumbled. He fell to the ground. Suddenly he was looking her in the eyes standing above his own body,

“Who are you?”

His voice was dead like leaves over the autumn ground and she recoiled. Muriel caught her and the scene shifted to a familiar flat. She had just been there for Christmas dinner.

Made a fool out of herself again.

She tried to conjure the fond memories of John, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson from that night but then he whirled into her space, completely unaware that she was standing mere inches behind him,

“He’s back. His filthy fingers are all over these deaths.”

“You mean like the cabby?”

John entered the room after him and took off his coat as he intently watched Sherlock flutter about the room. He looked like an angry blue bat in his coat and she couldn’t help but let that familiar smile and heartache arise in her.

“No this is something different. He’s been there. My connections have seen him in the same vicinity of three of the deaths here in London and two abroad.”

“You have an abroad homeless network?”

John sat down in his usual seat and looked highly amused as he picked up the paper in front of him on the ottoman. Sherlock didn’t dignify that with a response and huffed as he charged up and down the flat in front of the windows,

“It has to be him but the part that is elusive is the why. The victims, they had absolutely nothing in common. Nothing besides that fact that they were alive and suddenly dropped dead of heart failure. Most them were in good physical condition and young, one was even a child, there has to be a pattern!”

John suddenly looked grave,

“Why would he want to kill a child? What could he gain from it?”

Sherlock threw his hands in the air and whipped around violently to face John,

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out! If I knew that do you think I would be muttering aloud asking for your obtuse and unhelpful opinions instead of out there tracking down his next victim?”

Molly flinched but John just shrugged it off and went back to reading his paper,

“Maybe he’s just doing it to hide something else from you. Perhaps some of the deaths weren’t connected because they were decoys.”

That stopped Sherlock and he crowded up in to John’s personal space quickly,

“John you are brilliant! Completely wrong but just brilliant!”

He seemed to have figured something out and instead of asking him what it was John got up and sighed,

“Is this going to be another long, cold night wandering around the streets? Do we have time for tea first?”

Sherlock shook his head so fast it almost came spinning off as he pushed and cajoled him towards the door, putting his coat on for him, hands flailing all over his front,

“No! The Game waits for no man and no man’s tea!”

John shook his head but as soon as Sherlock had put on his scarf and was already running down the stairs John’s look of frustration changed to one of such fondness and love that if she had been breathing she would have stopped. As it was she simply watched them storm off into London together.

Always together.  

She turned to Muriel. She knew Sherlock was important. Her ghosts had shown her things to do with him for years and years. At first it was just glimpses of what he would help do but after she met him the visions were so detailed she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Which she could have used to annoy him endlessly. Before she hadn’t had a mind to, but now that she had some back up maybe…

“Do you see?”

For most her life she didn’t; didn’t really grasp the full meaning of each thing that the ghosts wanted to show her until she experienced it. Got back to her body and went out in to the world to interfere where they couldn’t. Some times she wondered if the Gift wasn’t hers but that of the ghosts that haunted her, that she was just a tool for them to help themselves with.

But this time she made the connection,

“Moriarty is stealing people’s Gift’s and in the process killing them!”

Her wispy gray head nodded and Muriel intoned,

“That’s not all. He’s looking, searching for the one Gift that will give him what he desperately needs.”

And in her flat gray eyes Molly saw Sherlock reflected in all his brilliance but still without the glow. And it made her dreadfully nauseous.

“He’s looking for a Gift because he’s like Sherlock. He’s brilliant and can read people effortlessly but he doesn’t have a Gift. He’s normal and hates the thought of it so he’s looking for a Gift that can give them to people without them. So he can finally best Sherlock, be _more._ ”

Muriel looked as disturbed as she was,

“You mustn’t let him. If that man, that thing, finds what he is looking for it will be the end of thousands possibly millions of souls.”

“You truly mean it? Not just lives but their very essences will be wiped from existence?”

Muriel’s form rippled dangerously, she suspected that was what it looked like when a ghost shivered.

 “What can I do to stop him? Tell Sherlock? I don’t have the power he’s looking for, what can I do?”

 “Go with her. Tell her what you know. He will be a player, a knight, but it is the ones with the Gift who will be moving the pieces. She’ll know what she has to do when the time comes and she’ll listen to you. Listen to her too.”

And in a violent snapping of strung cord she was jerked back in to her body in the cabin across from Irene who was still watching her voraciously. She could have been gone seconds, minutes, or even longer. The ache of her eyes and how slowly she blinked told her that she was probably gone for too long.

“What did you just do? Where did you go?”

It looked like a thousand other questions were fighting their way out of her mouth but she reined them in as Irene gleefully watched her. Instead of answering she shook her head trying to clear it and reclaim the space inside her own skin.

Molly had never looked down at her own body when she wasn’t in it because she was afraid of what she might see.

Most souls were vast and terrifying in their incomprehensible beauty simply because that was how they were. But they also revealed all the secrets, crags, and darkness in the person they belonged to. When she was forcefully dragged back into her earthly coil she could feel the shape of her soul a little. It was fluffy and thin. She didn’t want to know too much else about it.

Irene was still inching closer to her but she avoided eye contact and focused on the warm soothing feeling in her outer limbs as she reworked herself back into the physical world.

“How long?”

He voice was raspy like she had spent too much time in a smoke filled pub.

“About thirty two minutes, your eyes went completely black with pupil and flat like the surface of a worn stone. There was no light; it was like looking in to the eyes of a corpse. When I got up to examine you closely I noticed your breathing was erratic and shallow, your heart beat slowly like some one who was nearly frozen in ice.”

“ Your body appeared to be maintaining only the minimum functions of being alive and then suddenly you were back. It was like watching some one get dowsed with water and becoming instantly awake,”

“Stop. I know what it looks like. I wasn’t in my body so that makes sense.”

She immediately went silent and eyed her giddily,

“If you want to talk and see like a ghost you have to kinda be one. You can’t really have a physical body if you want to walk with them to whatever they want to show you. It’s simply the way it works.”

“How do you get back to your body? How do you leave it? Is there some sort of mechanism or triggering sensation, how do you know you will come back? What do they show you? How often does it happen? What does it feel like not having a body?”

She threw her hands over her eyes and tried really hard not to laugh,

“Oh you’re almost as bad as Sherlock. One at a time.”

That seemed to have the desired affect and she leaned back and seemed to think hard about what she wanted to know. Then leaned forward and said,

“What did they show you this time?”

An invisible hand came through the back of the seat back and clamped down on her throat. Now was not the time. She struggled to find her voice and the hand let up pressure but rested there in warning,

“I can’t tell you yet but it’s gravely important.”

Irene laughed but then stopped,

“If it was any one else but you I would have thrown them out for that. But I believe you. When do you think you will be able to trust me enough to tell me?”

She made a muffled helpless noise and spread her arms pleadingly,

“It’s not like that. I just can’t. Not yet. I think we have to go wherever you’re taking me, Canada? And then something will happen and I can tell you but I don’t know.”

When Irene eyed her critically she burst out,

“ If you think trying to read someone’s lust addled thoughts is bad try making portents and spirits speak plainly! It’s not how they work.”

Irene was deducing her again, eyes roving over her face down her neck which she rubbed anxiously as the invisible hand retreated from it. She watched nervously as her eyes flashed at the action but she remained silent, studying her with clinical precision.

“Alright. Then I suppose we should get off in two stops for the airport. Saranya will be there waiting to fly us to Toronto.”

“Where do all the women who work for you come from? I mean why only women?”

Her smile turned brittle and crooked and she stood abruptly,

“I don't just employ women. But people other than cis-men are the only ones I trust. They are fickle creatures when it comes to loyalty to people, their loyalty is based on exchange of services and their needs being met. They often refuse to set their own needs aside when people of other genders are expected to do it everyday. People other than cis-men are expected to be accommodating, friendly, and good-natured towards them at the expense of their own happiness and comfort.”

“ Most of the people who work for me want a place where they can be trusted and can trust, a place to be themselves without having to bend and twist to be what is expected. Many of them have had traumatic experiences with trying to please society and see this kind of work as a better alternative.”

“What kind of work?”

She knew it was barb but said it any way. She recognized the words Irene was using but hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn. There was still a major point of contention between the two of them that had nothing to do with gender. Irene should understand better than any one her dislike of being manipulated and kidnapped.

“Whatever kind of work they excel at and enjoy. Kate loves organizing, being orderly, managing shipments and schedules, she is my personal assistant.”

“ Thessaly was a Mossad operative who was too dangerous to be kept on after being assaulted by a high-ranking officer. They were going to kill her. She released me from where they were holding me and drove us out of Tel Aviv unnoticed. She likes to drive and she likes to kill. She’s my chauffer.”

“Saranya wanted to be pilot but zher very traditional parents arranged a marriage for zher at a young age. Zhe fled to Mexico and got a pilot’s license there.  I met zher while trying to hide in the crowds of Carnival in Mexico City. We flew out to the Caribbean the next day.”

“They find me, through providence or will, and I take them in and give them what they need. That is really all there is to it.”

Molly didn’t ask any more questions after that.  They exited the train and she didn’t make eye contact with Thessaly this time who had taken off her red wig and now had a long braid of curling black hair.

Molly pulled her felted hat down nervously and looked at their bleak surroundings before getting into the tinted glass of the black Cadillac.  

They arrived at the airstrip that was more like a dirt strip. 

The aeroplane was a personal jet and looked like every thing she imagined Irene traveling in and more. She briefly wondered how much money it cost but then pushed the thought away. Was any of the money Irene spent coming fairly earned? Did it really matter now?

Her whole worldview had been expanded so rapidly that she was dizzy from it.  She didn’t know what to do with herself other than sit back in one of the plush white leather seats and let sleep take her.

Molly drifted fitfully in and out. Snippets of dreams clung to her memories, she didn’t know if they were premonitions or nightmares but they were full of _his_ taunting laughter and the black and white flashes of the living and the dead. It was getting harder and harder for her to tell them apart and suddenly she was weeping.  

The cream colored ceiling of the plane was staring back at her.

Her face was cold and wet. She brushed it quickly and jumped when she noticed Irene was sitting next to her eying her carefully.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There wasn’t really much to say. Something had shifted and been set in motion, she was right.

Molly began to wonder if there would be a moment in her future when Irene wasn’t right. She had the same uncanny ability as Sherlock plus the ability to read people’s thoughts by touching them. Theoretically there was nothing she couldn’t learn about anyone.

Well from people who didn’t have the Gift.

Which she apparently thought was everyone but the two of them right now. She couldn’t count how many there had been, hundreds, thousands, and that was just what she could see in that one rotation of the Earth on its axis, who knew what the side facing away from her held.

So she ran her hands through her disheveled ponytail, yanking out the knots and rubber tie and brushing it through her fingers in jerking motions while she tried to gather her dignity back.

There were very few things that could make her cry any more, not since her Mum and Dad died anyway. She knew they had moved on without her and for a time before her Grandmum told her to become a morgue technician, well more like told her to get a job helping people, she had wanted to join them. There was only ever one step from death for her, from cutting the silk and ironclad cable that bound her to her flesh.

When she didn’t respond Irene rose and walked over to a cart near the bulkhead coming back with a bottle of fancy imported water that she had only ever seen in celebrities hands on the covers of glossy gossip mags. She handed it to her expectantly and Molly shook her head but took it and drank from it carefully. This thing she was drinking was probably worth an entire day’s pay for her.

 Seemingly satisfied with her tentative drinking she sat back down next her and kept glancing at her in-between texting on her phone,

“Won’t you crash the aeroplane doing that?”

“That’s just a myth mostly. Maybe when cell phones were first invented the waves their information traveled on might have harmed a plane’s navigation and communication but just so long as I don’t turn on my phone’s GPS I can text over the internet just fine. It doesn’t disrupt anything except the quiet beeping and ringing free atmosphere of the plane. Which is why flights still stop people from using phones.”

“Is that really true?”

“Probably. Saranya has never told me to turn mine off while zhe’s in the air so I don’t really think it matters.”

That wasn’t as comforting as she probably meant it to be. She turned and lifted the shades on the aeroplane’s window to see nothing but inky blackness. Shuddering she shut the shade and looked back towards her,

“Um is there anything for me to do? I mean I could go to sleep again but I’d rather not after that dream. Do you have any books or something to write on or?”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be willing to, I mean I am technically a hostage so,”

She looked hurt but gracefully stood and walked over to the wall where she waved her hand causing a video screen to suddenly appear from behind the smooth shiny wood.

“We can watch whatever you want. We have all sorts of international television and movies.  Some of it hasn’t even aired yet but why watch telly like everyone else when you have connections?”

“When I was little my Mum used to watch Doctor Who reruns with me to make me feel less frightened. She said the Doctor could help any one no matter how small or insignificant they felt. It’s silly I know but you wouldn’t happen to have any of Four would you?”

She smiled genuinely for the first time since they had met and she had to smother the gasp that threatened to come out of her,

“You know that in 900 years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”

“That’s Eleven you know.”

Irene rolled her eyes,

“Fine. Would you like a jelly baby?”

Molly giggled and with that she clicked some more buttons on the screen and sat down next to her to watch the fourth Doctor prattle around and fight Autons and Daleks until they landed in Ontario. 

But she was distracted now and she couldn’t stop thinking about the woman next to her, something was coming to be sure but it wasn’t just the final confrontation with Moriarty.

She was doing something exciting for the first time in ages.

Life had become strangely monotonous, what might be extraordinary to others had become her mundane and she had been stuck in the daily grind.

Sure being kidnapped and taken across the pond to do God knows what for some information and money should be terrifying and should make her hate and fear her captor but instead it felt like a catalyst. Like this string of events had suddenly transformed her into something else.

She didn’t know what yet and the quieter part of her mind dreaded finding out. But for the time she wished her powers of deduction where as honed as Sherlock’s.

Because understanding Irene, knowing her, seemed to be the most interesting thing she could do right now.

When they exited the aeroplane another black luxury car was waiting, this time she didn’t recognize the make. Thessaly started driving them towards downtown Toronto.

“Where are we going?”

“Are you familiar at all with downtown Toronto?”

“Er no.”

“No matter. We will be staying at the Hotel Le Germain Maple Leaf Square downtown, very modern, very expensive, and where our mark will attending a wedding.”

“ _Our_ mark?”

She raised an arched brow and shrugged,

“You don’t have to help but I bet it will be more interesting than staying in our room watching hotel pay per view.”

“ _Our_ room?”

“Well I suppose I could get you a separate room but we are staying in an apartment suite, there will be plenty of room for you to avoid me if you want to.”

“That’s not what I meant it’s just I don’t know how much help I’d be if you’re doing, things that I don’t do.”

Irene’s look was amused as she raised her eyebrow even higher,

“And what are these things that you don’t do? Perhaps you think all I do is sleep with people for information and money and you don’t want to do that?”

“Or perhaps it’s the idea of being tied up, gagged, legs splayed wide and open to the air, helpless to whoever wants to lick and touch you, or would you rather be doing the licking?”

“Could it be the idea of stealing, manipulating people, and possibly any sex acts at all in that equation that bothers you?”

She blushed so hard it was actually physically painful. Irene seemed to realize her mistake and started to apologize,

“I shouldn’t have said that. That was cruel. I’m sor-”

“That’s not it! I mean it is but not because of that. I don’t know okay. Just always ask me before you try and drag me off to do something alright?”

She nodded solemnly,

“I’ll always ask of course. Consent is the most important part of the sex work that I do. There can be no pleasure in pain without willingness and trust. Otherwise it is just abuse.”

The breath she had been holding escaped her lips and she leaned back into the soft leather seats of the car.  But certainly Irene couldn’t blame her for being fearful, she had been taken against her will, well at the start of this any way.

 It was not the best way to start off a friendship, coercing your new friend into helping you rob some one. Although it wasn’t quite as bad as if Irene had gotten abducted by a murderer and then made her kill a man to save her. That was one hell of a first day as flat mates and they thought they were the only ones who knew about it.

She had eyes literally everywhere and they showed her things whether she wanted to see them or not. Molly knew more about what went on in Baker Street than even Mrs. Hudson. Maybe.

She had a rising suspicion Mrs. Hudson had a Gift. She was able to put up with Sherlock after all.

They arrived at the hotel and Irene briskly checked in with the concierge before they were shown to their room. The entire time Molly was gawking at the surroundings, everything was very black, slick, modern, and yet plush and inviting.

Much like Irene.

Even the entire outside of the Hotel Le Germain Maple Leaf Square was mat black and ringed with slim perfectly polished glass windows that shone in the early evening twilight of the Canadian sky.  

Their room was equally impressive; there was a large living room with a couch, a fully stocked kitchen, and a dinning room with a long table big enough to seat at least ten. The bathroom was almost as big as the kitchen and resembled a spa like the ones that she had seen brochures for at her hairdressers. Molly stopped exploring when she made it to the bedroom.

There was only one king sized bed.

All of her doubts and anxieties came rushing back as she came running out of the bedroom, nearly ready to flee the hotel and try and find some way back. But instead she ran into Irene and Thessaly talking over a newly opened bottle of red wine in the kitchen.

“Ah Miss Molly, Thessaly informs me that your bags and cat are being brought up and we can hope to have dinner in. What’s wrong?”

“There’s only one bed.”

Thessaly looked sidelong at Irene and she sighed and said,

“Well yes that is traditionally how this suite is ordered. But I won’t be sleeping here much, if at all, so the bed is yours.”

She was ready to run, to protest, to lock herself in the bathroom and refuse to come out, it was really roomy in there. But she hadn’t been expecting that so instead she just stared dumbly back as Irene smiled gently and went about pulling some more things from the kitchen cabinets.

“Thessaly wanted to cook some Lebanese food for us for dinner. But Mezze usually has thirty dishes and we really don’t have time for that.”

“I offered to make Riz bi-Djaj because I was spying in Beit Shabab and it was a local favorite. It doesn’t take any of the usual marinade times like most Lebanese chicken dishes do and,”

“Maybe tomorrow night Thessaly. Tonight is pasta night!”

Thessaly rolled her eyes and grumbled something in another language as she stalked over to island between the kitchen and the living room to lean against it and drink some more wine.

She wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t a terrible cook but it was a fairly small kitchen so she probably shouldn’t offer to help.

There was room next to Thessaly but frankly she was a little terrified of the woman. Although she had been nothing but polite and protective to her there was definitely something sharp in her presence. She didn’t know much about Mossad but what she did know was that they brutally killed often for their country.

Unlike a lot of other intelligence agencies they didn’t balk at murdering perceived "threats," in fact they came up with new and creative ways to do it so as to not be detected. She had no doubt that Thessaly, which was probably not her name, used to do that and more. And now she worked for Irene.

Protecting her, moving her effortlessly across international borders. What did she do to inspire such feelings in these people? Maybe she just showed them the respect and praise they deserved.

Maybe working for her made them happy. She wanted to ask but was too intimidated to try now. Maybe once she had known them longer.

That thought stopped her dead.

Was she planning on sticking with her? Did that mean she would become an international criminal who took from people instead of helping them? Well that didn’t quite ring true because she did help people.

It was mostly rich men and occasionally women who bore the brunt of her thievery and if Molly was feeling romantic she might even think of her like a modern dominatrix version of Robin Hood. Good thing she wasn’t feeling romantic because that would have been awkward.

So she stood slightly out of place between the kitchen and living room and watched Irene fry eggplant and boil water for pasta. She was surprisingly into it and didn’t seem to mind chipping her bright red nails while chopping garlic. She was even swaying and humming as she went.

“She’s more human that her whip hand would let them believe.”

She jumped when Thessaly’s voice came next to her and both their brown eyes met,

“You are practically vibrating with questions. Ask. She cannot really pay too much attention to anything other than cooking. You might not know it but it is very hard for her.”

“Ask me what else is hard for her. Why I choose to stay. Go ahead.”

“I don’t think it’s my place. After all we just met this morning. Oh I guess it’s yesterday by now with the time difference. I don’t think it’s my place to,”

She held up a solid hand and said,

“When you look at her what to do see?”

She didn’t know what she should and shouldn’t say. She didn’t know if she was asking for an opinion or a deduction. Maybe they were both the same thing. In Sherlock’s case they were.

“I see a beautiful woman who uses to her brains and looks to get what she wants out of people she sees as weaker and more malleable. She says she doesn’t use people as pawns like Sherlock and Moriarty and yet she has a personal army of women who would kill for her, die for her.”

“I see some one who loves knowledge. As much as she claims not to play their Game she watches it like an avid fan and occasionally throws a Hail Mary from off court.  She pretends to be a feline in female clothing but is really something else entirely. Something that no one can really grasp the whole shape of at once before she slips through your fingers like water.”

Thessaly nodded,

“Then you do see. That’s curious. Why do you refuse to join her then?”

She gestured helplessly and Thessaly continued,

“ Most of us who came to see her for what she truly is stayed. Because we were attracted to her ferocity and strength but our desire to protect was triggered by her vulnerability. She has been broken for a long time. Lost. How do you think she got to be what she is?”

“I don’t know her like you do I guess.”

She turned on her violently and her eyes had become cold and full of rage,

“You do. You know her better than any of us could because you are her equal. Your Gift makes it so.”

“There are many countries and men who would give any amount of flesh and money to posses what you two do. But they never will. And she will stop any who try to take away her freedom and the freedom of her women.”

“So do not desert her for the world that will never appreciate you. Stay. There is a place for you here.”

There was nothing she could think of to say to that that wouldn’t sound moronic or cruel so she didn’t speak. Instead she looked guiltily at her hands until Irene called out,

“Pasta’s on ladies! Eat up! I made a double batch because it was a long day.”

The food was good. It wasn’t anything fancy but she didn’t really care, it was warm and flavorful and she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

There wasn’t a dinner conversation either but the other two women didn’t seem to mind as they ate quietly and with the same mechanical hunger as she did.  After dinner Thessaly left and it was just the two of them. And sometime during dessert a bellhop had brought up Toby so at least she had some one to talk to if she could pull him from out under the couch.

She suddenly became nervous again and wasn’t quite sure what she should say when she realized they were alone.

“If you want to help then you’re going to want to go to bed a bit early tonight. Tomorrow morning there will be errands to run and then prep work for meeting and dealing with the mark in a safe way. Also jet lag is very counter productive to espionage.”

“You guys have strategy meetings?”

“Everyone who is involved in a heist is briefed and prepared for several of the most likely scenarios. With you though, you can see what’s going to happen right? If you know which plan is the one that will work you’ll make my job a lot easier.”

“I can’t. It doesn’t work like that. I can ask for help or guidance but it doesn’t usually come unless I really desperately need it. Ghosts’ are kind of stingy about showing the living the future. There’s gotta be some perks right?”

It was a weak joke but she laughed softly any way,

“I had assumed that was the way it worked but it was worth a shot. So yes there will be a strategy meeting. The way that I operate is to reduce the possibility of injury and death to myself and all of the people who work for me. It’s really as simple as that.”

“So would you like to be a team member, for just this operation, for now?”

There wasn’t too much left to consider. She remembered being there the day John and Sherlock had met and with a jolt realized the parallel was too obvious to be a coincidence.

Irene, had swept her up literally, and there was no going back. This was her life now and surprisingly she didn’t mind.

In fact the excitement was bringing new color to her world and as long as Irene asked her before involving her in anything she would go with her, wherever she asked.

“Sure. I’m not sure how much help I will be but if you need something I’ll try.”

Irene’s smile was a genuine one as she bid her goodnight.  

Molly did sleep in the giant luxurious king bed alone and then next morning heard Irene loudly banging on her door,

“Get up darling! There are things to buy, people to smooze with!”

There was a quick shower and then as she left the bathroom in nothing but a towel she looked for her old clothes to put back on but Thessaly stopped her.

“Irene says your jumpers are cute but not right for where we’re going. Put this on.”

And then she handed her a maroon swath of fabric.

Molly went back into the bathroom and unfolded it to see that it was a diaphanous knee-length day dress with halter collar, see-through cape, and knee-length skirt. To her embarrassment there was also a new set of knickers and bra as well as a black pair of tights all in her size. She put them on slowly so as not to rip anything. Who knew how much they were worth. The brand Yiqing Yin was stitched in the collar but she didn’t recognize what that meant.

She looked lovely; with the drape it really did suit her. Because of the tights it wasn’t too short for her to run in if she needed to. Molly really hoped she wouldn’t need to. But her hair looked wrong just straggling down her head so she put it back in a French braid and tried to make herself not look like she was a fourteen year old girl.

She made it to the door where Thessaly was waiting and was about to put on her wellies from yesterday when she rolled her eyes and handed her a pair of low slung black pumps, again in her size.

They made their way to the expansive lobby and Thessaly opened the door for her on a new black Camaro and then went back around front to drive. Irene was waiting in the back seat for her of course and was already dressed in a skinny emerald dress with three quarter sleeves and big black Channel sunglasses. She grinned as she moved them slowly down her nose,

“Oh Molly you do clean up well. I had suspected as much but you really are a picture.”

“Don’t you think so Thessaly? Now if we could only do something with your hair.”

Thessaly was smart enough not to reply.

She let her fuss with her hair for a little bit longer, watching her eyes light up in the shaded backseat of the car. 

Something lodged itself in her throat snaking up through her lungs. Molly tried not to gasp. Those blue eyes were so alive and full of fondness. How was that possible? It had been so long since she had seen true fondness directed at her. Jim’s and Sherlock’s was all pretense, she knew it but ate it guiltily anyway. 

Knew it was lies but that was some how better than the truth of hatred or disinterest. No one liked being hated, even Sherlock although he would tell you otherwise and if a certain amount of praise and attention wasn’t showered on him he shattered. The fragility of genius and all that. But she could pretend to be normal and normal people didn’t need the world’s adoring and fearful eyes. Normal people could suffice on the small ration of attention from friends and family.

Except Molly no longer had much of either. So this attention, this playful touching, was almost overwhelming her to tears.

Irene seemed to realize something was wrong because she stopped and pulled back for minute to look her in the eyes. They must have been too obviously wet because she flinched and stared out the window. An awkward silence descended between them and she was even more upset because of it.  But she managed to push it down like most of her more unpleasant emotions and said high and cheerfully,

“So where exactly are we going right now?”

Irene turned back to her, her eyes scraping over her critically before she decided to respond,

“Well first we’re going to get you something to wear to the wedding reception tonight. Then we’re going to have a strategy meeting at a local restaurant before coming back to the hotel to get ready for the reception.”

Molly nodded and smiled but she knew it was cracked. Why did she always have to mess everything up?

They arrived outside a cute looking building with a black and white striped awning and Thessaly opened both the car and shop doors for them. A squeal of delight greeted them and as Molly took a step back in shock. Irene rushed forward to embrace the woman behind the raised counter on the left.

“Irene darling welcome back! It’s been ages, you’ve mostly been doing internet orders I never see you any more!”

“Now, now, Tildie we all can’t own a neat little store front and keep shop. Some of us have to travel for business.”

Tilda smirked and said,

“Well you could have at least sent me a postcard love. I mean besides the periodical orders how was I supposed to know you were even alive?”

Irene smiled crookedly and leaned over the back of one of the deep cherry wood chairs in the middle of the room towards her,

“You have to know Tildie it would take more than a few of your husband’s snipers to kill me. I’ve been doing marvelously actually. How is William?”

“He’s doing well. You know you really should come over for dinner while you’re here. He’s no longer so broken up about you, in fact I think he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to joining us if you decided to stay for dessert.”

Irene’s laugh was lyrical and bright but she shook her head,

“I am on a job right now Tildie. Can’t be troubled with dinner. Perhaps another time. Which brings me to why I’m here! Molly this is Clotilde von Ormstein; Tilda for short, and Tildie this is Molly Hooper. We need dresses for a wedding tonight.”

Tilda clapped her hands under her chin and then rounded on Irene,

“Oh this simply won’t do! All you had to do was send me an invitation and I would have forgiven you and been there will bells on! Who would have guessed that some one could have tamed The Woman.”

Molly’s eyes grew wide and she started to try and explain but Irene held up a hand between them and said,

“You might have jumped a little ahead of yourself there darling, we’re attending some one else’s tonight that’s all.”

She looked suspiciously between Molly and Irene but then smoothed out her trim hounds tooth skirt over her ample curves and smiled,

“Well either way I can certainly find something that both of you will look amazing in and out of. Come to the back. Irene you know the drill.”

Molly was confused about the “out of” part until she followed a silently chuckling Irene behind the cream silk curtain at the back of the shop.  

There was a large dressing room complete with multiple private suites but all along the walls were various dresses, skirts, vests, trousers, and fancy bras and knickers as well. Everything was in simple and elegant cuts and looked like it cost thousands of pounds. Well it probably did.

Molly was speechless when she turned to Irene she immediately looked away. She was striped down to nothing but her bra and skirt. She raised an eye brow at her and said,

“If you’re shy Tildie can get a private room for you. Trust me she is very professional when it comes to clothes. I want only the best and Prima Donna has the best. So when in Rome, or in this case Ontario.”

She didn’t turn to face her simply shook her head yes and Irene called Tilda over to help Molly into another room. She brought her an armful of beautiful dresses and undergarments and smiled kindly at her,

“You’ll need help doing the snaps on a few of these but usually I dress the customer even if the garment is easy to put on. I’m sure if you’re with Irene you’re used to it but I thought I should ask permission before I do.”

“No it’s fine. Just do whatever you do normally.”

She was red in the face but she stripped down to her bra and knickers and was really glad they were the new black set Irene had provided and not her ratty oatmeal colored ones from home.  She let Tilda silently help her in and out of a few dresses that were okay but not quite right in color or cut while she flitted back and forth between her and Irene.  

And then there was the blue dress. It was the dress; they both knew it as soon as she looked up into the mirror. It had a sheer royal blue lace top with three quarters sleeves and an iridescent cupcake dress underneath that flared out in a cute yet refined figure. It made her want to spin around and dance.

They both came tumbling out of the room to show Irene and stopped dead. She was appraising herself in the mirror while wearing a flowing floor length red dress. It glowed like a hearth in the electric lights of the store and she wondered what she would look like in the soft light of the ballroom or better yet the sunset. Her hair was down out of its sweeping bun and she looked like a regal princess on the way to the opera. The dress was silk and clung and draped over her slim chest and Molly couldn’t look away.

She didn’t realize she was biting her lip until Tilda coughed and grinned widely at her. Irene was beaming at both of them,

“I think we’ve found our dresses, time to wrap them up and send us on our merry way!”

She shook her head and tutted,

“But I haven’t fitted either of you for intimates yet. You’ll want something just as nice as those dresses to go under them.”

Molly hesitated because she really could use a strapless bra to go under her dress and yet she wasn’t sure she wanted to try on underwear in the same way she had dresses. But Irene rolled her eyes and said,

“Tildie I own one of everything in every color from your shop including your unreleased Spring collection. Fit Molly for something, I’ll be waiting in the parlor.”

And with that she winked and swirled back in to the dressing room in a wave of red. Tilda chuckled as she started to take the dress from her and whip out a measuring tape,

“Both of you are so narrow. To be honest I’m a bit jealous, but then again I bet Irene wouldn’t mind having my curves. She’s said as much before.”

Molly nodded and tried to focus on the conversation. It had been so long since any one had seen her let alone touched her while this naked. She was trying very hard not to make it awkward.

“So how do you and Irene know each other?”

She looked surprised at the question but smiled at her in the mirror ruefully,

“Well she and my husband were lovers at Uni in Warsaw. But I met her years later when I was mugged outside her house after a play. She was the picture of hospitality and helped me catch the bastard that stole my purse.”

“ We hit it off as friends and then we really hit it off if you know what I mean. It was very casual but I broke it off when I fell in love with William. Later I tried to invite her to our wedding and he freaked out. Thought that she was trying to blackmail him or worse me and then sent some of his trained guard after her.”

“As much as I adore my husband he is a bit melodramatic. But maybe that’s just how he was raised. His family owns every major aeroplane manufacturer in Europe so he’s practically a prince. Needless to say Irene didn’t come to the wedding and hadn’t visited either of us since. Until today that is!”

Molly tried to follow that but simply stared at her. What else or perhaps who else had Irene been involved with in her very short life? Did every one she knew and called upon regularly for favors at one time bend to her will and whip hand? She tried not to gasp as Tilda helped her put on a classic looking nude colored lace bustier.

“So how did you and Irene meet?”

“She kidnapped me from a information exchange hosted by the British government.”

She laughed and then told Molly to step into a slight pair of panties to go over the one’s she was already wearing.

“Yes that sounds about right for Irene. She never does anything by half. But it works for her. She has yet to do something so spectacularly reckless that she can’t find a way out of it. I know it’s not your job or prerogative but make sure she stays that way. None of us want to see her alone.”

She didn’t know what to say to that so she nodded around the lump in her throat and croaked out,

“Uh this is lovely. This should be fine.”

She grinned and said,

“I’ll get you the nude and the royal blue sets. Have fun tonight dear. Whatever Irene has you doing don’t forget to have fun.”

That did make her smile. Tilda seemed to understand Irene’s world better than any one she had talked to so far. She was beginning to think maybe she should just ask Irene these questions that had begun to cloud her thoughts. But she wasn’t sure what her answers would be.

They came out of Prima Donna carrying three huge paper bags full of very expensive evening wear and _evening_ wear. Thessaly even tipped her hat acknowledging Tilda as Irene kissed her on both cheeks good bye. As soon as they were in the car she turned to Molly and leaned on one arm against the back seat,

“I didn’t get a chance to mention in the shop but you looked stunning in that dress.”

She smiled and managed to hold eye contact,

“You did too. I mean in your dress, it was, it was just really lovely.”

She laughed and brushed her hair back out of her face and then proceeded to put it back up in a looser bun,

“Don’t I always? Ah don’t give me that face! Search your feelings, you know it to be true.”

“Did you just quote something at me? That was a quote wasn’t it, that seemed really familiar.”

Irene looked dumbstruck,

“Have you honestly never seen Star Wars? Really? I used to watch it all the time as a kid surely you’ve at least seen it once?”

“Um well I wasn’t really into it. I might have seen it once in Uni, it um wasn’t as big in the UK when I was little. Wait when did you see it all the time?”

Irene stopped laughing and her face smoothed out to a perfectly cool mask,

“Well I was born in the States and lived there for a bit so that makes sense.”

“Oh. That explains the little extra to your accent. I mean it’s perfect but there’s a little bit something, never mind. Where are you from in the states?”

“I was born in New Jersey. I hope you like Chinese because we’re meeting Celia and Morgan for dim sum.”

She nodded stiffly and tried not to pry. From the look Thessaly was giving her in the rear view mirror she guessed she was either blessed or cursed with this new information.

They arrived at the restaurant and sat down at a large booth. Two women who were waiting by the bathroom came over and sat down across from them.

One was short and black with burning bright pink and bleached blonde dreads and a septum ring. The other was exceptionally tall, bony, and a red head. She looked like a lot of Irene’s other employees. Molly was beginning to think she had a thing for red heads, there was a random thought of hers to possibly dye her hair but she stamped it out.

“Alright ladies let’s order and then get down to business. Morgan since you’ve lived here for year I think it’s best you order what’s good and the rest of us will follow suit.”

She raised a thin red eyebrow at Irene,

“You deferring to me over something? How very bizarre.”

Irene’s smile was sharp as she turned to Molly,

“Molly this is Morgan, she’s an eminent event planner here in Toronto also she’s very prickly when it comes to instructions but she takes them when she has to. Don’t you love?”

Morgan’s smile was snake-like,

“Under very specific circumstances I can be bidable. But I had to do a lot of shifting and planning to pull this off for you. That guest list was very strictly monitored, the bride’s mother was a tyrant with an iron fist wrapped in silk.”

“But you did get us in correct?”

“Well yes but I’m letting you know my billables are going to be triple the usual. Also I’m going to request an extended vacation in the Seychelles for Anise and I.”

“Of course. Your assistance was entirely worth it darling. All right now that we are officially in tell us whom we should avoid and if we should talk to any one at our table at all. As much information as you can possibly give me right now. The rest send to my phone.”

Morgan nodded and said,

“Well I put you at a table with relatives from several branches removed so you should be able to make idle chatter and mention you’re a friend of the bride. Obviously avoid the bride and groom at all costs. Don’t approach Hillburn or any of his entourage.”

“I’m emailing you a map of the layout of the ballroom with seating arrangements and brief descriptions of family members you should know in order to fit in.  Also you are going by your first names, your last name is Trevor your are married and have been happily so for a year.”

Molly tried hard not to let her surprise show. It didn’t mean anything they were masquerading as a couple anyway; it would be easier to pass themselves off as a committed couple at a wedding rather than one that was just dating. Irene cleared her throat to try and dispel the uncomfortable tension that had descended around them,

“Alright Celia this is Molly my companion, Molly, Celia or CeCe if you get on her good side, she’s as brilliant a hacker as there ever was on the SIS watch list. What headway have you made in their systems?”

“Not much unfortunately. Whoever they have working them is either really good or a fucking moron. Their fire walls and back doors read like an Escher painting, it’s like getting lost in a really crappy version of The Labyrinth after tripping balls on poisoned peaches.”

“I have seen that one. It had David Bowie in it.”

Irene smiled sideways at Molly and then motioned for Celia to go on,

“But you do know the layout by now. How you can get in and perhaps send a bot to go fishing?”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to wirelessly. I need to be able to jack into the their systems manually because the data we are looking for is being kept on an external drive that isn’t hooked up to whatever massive mainframe they are running.”

“Thessaly do you have a plan for this?”

“They’re keeping two bedrooms on the 9th floor, one of them is the master suite like Irene’s and the other is an adjacent room that is using half the entire hotel’s energy for air conditioning. If I were a betting woman I would put my life savings on that being where these men are keeping the stolen severs running.”

“At least one of those computers is hooked up to internet otherwise I wouldn’t know about any of them because for the most part it appears to be a closed circuit system, ie the computers can only talk to each other not any others that aren’t hooked up to them.”

“Okay then Thessaly we will create a little bit of a distraction so that CeCe can find out where they’re keeping the hard drive and what is on it as well as wipe the entire system.”

“Wait then why are we going to the wedding? I mean wouldn’t we get the same result if we created a distraction from some other part of the hotel?”

Irene leaned back as the waitress put several bamboo steamers full of dim sum in front of them,

“Yes but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun. You know I hate to miss a good party.”

There was some other reason she wasn’t telling her about she could feel it and she hated it. But she didn’t want to call her out on it in front of all her agents in the middle of planning meeting.

“Is there anything else we should be looking out for in all this? Thessaly I want you to make sure CeCe is properly armed this time. You remember Cairo.”

Celia fidgeted and then mumbled,

“I still can’t shoot one okay. I don’t know what good it will do me.”

“It’s not about your aim per say, it will just make me feel better if you have one this time alright?”

Celia grinned sheepishly at Irene and nodded while Thessaly rolled her eyes. Molly raised her eyebrows but Thessaly shook her head no.

They all ate the dim sum in quiet bursts of mundane conversation after that until Morgan brought up the topic of relationships just to be spiteful.

“So how long have you two been dating?” She asked gesturing with her chopsticks between Molly and Irene. Molly froze and Irene set the shrimp pot sticker she was about to eat down on her plate slowly,

“We’re not.”

“Oh sorry then whatever you want to call it, friends with benefits, lovers, fuck buddies?”

“Morgan that’s enough. You, once again are wrong about something, leave it alone.”

She was about to say something when Molly couldn’t hold it in any longer,

“We should go.”

It was lame and she bit the inside of her cheek for saying it but she needed to leave. Everything was confusing and painful all of a sudden. There really was no place for her in Irene’s life, at least not right now, and she could feel the ache of it all of a sudden.

She was very tired.

Irene graciously tipped the server and they all got back in the black town car except Morgan who sniffed at her disdainfully before leaning in and saying loud enough for every one to hear,

“You’re not good enough for her, you’ll never be enough, no one woman ever will be.”

And then she walked back down the street leaving a shocked Molly in her wake. Irene was fuming in the car while angrily texting and reading email schematics on her phone while Celia and Molly sat silently on either side of her.

When they got back to the hotel room Celia perched on the couch and picked up her laptop out of her button covered messenger bag and began to furiously type. Irene whirled into the bedroom in a flurry of slamming doors, leaving Thessaly and Molly to stand alone in the living room.

She silently handed her the bags with her dress and nodded to the bathroom before pulling out a book from her inside pocket holding her gun. Taking the hint Molly bolted for the bathroom and put on the royal blue bustier and pants then nude tights and the dress. She did it all mechanically trying not to worry about what was going to happen tonight.  Somehow Toby had slipped in there with her and his constant soothing purring from inside the Jacuzzi tub was helping her relax a little bit.

Molly still didn’t know what the information they were trying to steal was, in all honesty she was better off not knowing. But it made her wonder about what they were going to do after all this. Was she going to go back to work at St. Barts and just think of this whole thing as a strange holiday? Would she follow Irene around until she got tired of her and left her for some other woman like Morgan had implied? Or would she get tired of Irene’s thievery instead and leave her in decidedly worse shape than what she found her in?

There were a few other options that sounded enticingly like being her girlfriend/companion/sidekick/lover but she didn’t try to fantasize about those. It wouldn’t lead anywhere happy for either of them.

By the time she was messing with her hair, trying to make it look perfect like Irene’s, she was in a very tired and low mood. There was a loud banging on the door before Irene shouted through it,

“Let me do your hair and makeup. We don’t have all evening and it is like battle armor, you have to apply and lace it correctly.”

She sighed and opened the door to see her standing there aflame in her red dress. Her hair was down and fanned out around her shoulders in wild curls, she looked like Maab or some other mythical fairy goddess. Ruby red lips parted as she smiled and Molly realized she had been staring at them blurrily.

Not that the rest of the outfit wasn’t stunning as well.

“Come on, sit at the vanity and I will do something with all that hair. Also red lipstick is not the way to go with your skin tone tonight Miss Molly.”

There was no resistance as she let her sit her down in front of the mirror and gently brush her hair with her fingers. Molly’s eyes flickered shut as she ran her nails soothingly over her scalp before brushing it carefully with a large toothcomb.  She curled it and put it in a low side ponytail before carefully applying eye makeup and lipstick.

The whole thing was like meditation or a ritual; she was so relaxed she almost felt like she had been put into a trance. Every action was deliberate and smooth, it was like watching the scene in slow motion.  When she finished she whispered in her ear,

“You can look now.”

And when Molly gasped at her own reflection Irene laughed and kissed the back of her neck swiftly making her jump. Then there was the feeling of wetness and a gently circular touch.

“I’m sorry I got lipstick on you and am wiping it off.”

But as she said it her hot breath ghosted over the sudden cold spot and made her shudder. Irene simply patted her shoulder affectionately and said,

“Alright time to go to the ball before I turn back into a pumpkin Cinderella.”

“I don’t look like me.”

Irene turned to face her in the doorway and smiled sadly,

“That’s the point tonight I’m afraid. But if it’s any consolation I think you’re most beautiful when you’re dressed in a lab coat and jumper ready to do an autopsy and deal with the dredge from the Met.”

Molly felt the blush and the smile all the way from her cheeks to her toes. She didn’t want to know how Irene knew what that looked like but she wasn’t about to refuse the compliment.

They went downstairs to the grand ballroom for the reception, which was decorated in pristine white so that bright cool colors could be projected onto every surface. No one at their table seemed particularly talkative so they mostly kept to themselves talking about other people in the room and eating the three-course meal that was being served.

When it had been almost two hours of nothing Molly wanted to scream or leave or both. Irene had been very stealthily touching servers on the hand, or gently patting the arms of the old women next to them, siphoning ideas and thoughts from their surroundings like she was playing a great violin. But she hadn’t said anything to Molly about what she had learned.

And because she hadn’t had any direct contact with Hillburn or his men it probably wasn’t terribly useful information either.

 There had to be some other reason they were here it just didn’t make any sense. The bride and groom had their first dance and it was just ending when she finally snapped.

“It doesn’t make any sense! Everything we’ve done so far hasn’t been part of any distraction that I can see. Maybe I’m just dumb but this whole thing seems like a waste of time.”

Irene stilled and then stood,

“Would you like me to show you why I wanted to go to this reception with you Molly?"

She reached out her hand tentatively and Molly didn’t turn it down. They glided slowly to the edge of the softly lit dance floor with other couples and carefully placed hands on shoulders and hips. She tried to let the words of the soft song wash over her but she couldn’t fight the thoughts of how good it felt to be this close to some one. How soft and warm her hands were on her hips. The gentle ghost of her breath on her neck and shoulders.

The sensations made her want to push her away and pull her closer at the same time. It was devastating but she couldn’t stop the slow sway of her legs as they danced across the floor. In high heels she was slightly taller than Irene and yet she was the one being sheltered and led.

She had been looking all around at the others, the walls, even the shifting display lights but as soon as her eyes locked with hers she froze. They stopped dancing.

The hand she had on Irene’s shoulder crept of its own volition to the side of her face. She gently stroked it down to her neck. Molly’s eyes fluttered shut briefly but then flew open to search her face frantically.

That was the last straw for her.

She leaned forward and pressed her face into her neck then leaned up and whispered into her ear,

“I’m sorry.”

Irene’s arms moved from trapped in between their bodies to holding her tightly,

“Don’t be. Don’t ever apologize to me for how you feel.”

The sound that came out of Molly’s mouth was closer to sob rather than a whine,

“I just, I’ve spent so much time saying sorry I’ve forgotten what it feels like to actually be sorry. And I’m sorry I haven’t told what I want, you’re not a mind reader after all.”

They both laughed softly and Irene pulled back enough to look her full in the face,

“Not when it comes to you no. I know I introduced myself poorly to you. You don’t know how desperately I wished our first encounter had been at a party or a club or something mundane. That’s what you would have preferred.”

“God no! I hardly go to those. We never would have run in to each other. The only way we would have met would have been through my work, and that entails you either being dead or knowing some one who was.....Yeah.”

Irene chuckled darkly,

“Well what I meant was that if I had met you more normally I would have flirted shamelessly with you, bought you a fruity cocktail, asked for your number, and possibly offered to have really great drunken sex with you. At some point discovering you were special like me and wanting nothing more than to learn everything ever about you for as long as you’d let me.”

She flushed but it was a good burn,

“I doubt it. I’m not too noticeable in public; I believe the term most often used is wallflower. Even someone as observant as Sherlock brushed over me.”

Suddenly her eyes were hard and she pulled farther away,

“That man really has thoroughly wrecked your self worth darling. I would have approached you in your kitten knit sweaters and wellies in a coffee shop any day of the week.”

“ Sherlock Holmes loves enigmas and danger wrapped in normalcy. He caught fire by accident with John Watson after he missed you entirely. You are bigger on the inside Molly. Don’t let any one convince you otherwise.”

She made a helpless gesture with her hands and looked away before looking back and pulling her into a swift kiss.

It didn’t last because it was clumsy and spur of the moment but when they broke apart they were both panting.

“You don’t suppose I could offer that amazing drunken sex without the flirting and phone number first?”

Molly laughed and smiled bashfully while reaching out a hand to start dancing together again,

“I don’t know, I mean I don’t usually go home with a gal on the first date.”

Irene raised an eyebrow,

“Oh is this our first date then?”

“Well there was the Doctor Who marathon on the plane, the dinner you made me in the hotel room last night, the shopping spree this morning, and we met in a café in a very date-like situation.”

She ran a hand up to the back of Molly’s curled ponytail and started to play with her wispy shorthairs making her shiver,

“So by your count then we’ve had four dates, it wouldn’t be terribly uncouth of me to ask you back to our room where we can take our time undressing and kissing, or not?”

The blush refused to leave her face but she didn’t pull away or stammer,

“Is this before or after we cause a distraction so Celia can locate the data set or the external hard drive they’re using to hide it off the main cloud server?”

Irene let out a hiss of breath and then shook her head,

“Yes not very romantic this whole heist plan. Not to worry though the distraction has already been set in motion.”

Irene’s brilliant white smile was the last thing she saw before all the lights in the ballroom when out.

Various people in the room let out panicked wails but little blips of cellphone light started appearing all over the cavernous room.

Her phone blazed to life as she motioned for Molly to follow her out of the ballroom. They quickly exited into the main lobby amongst quiet chaos and headed straight for the emergency light of the stairs up instead out like everyone else was heading.  

She was taking the steps two at a time and Molly had to shuck off her very nice heels in order to keep up. They made it up to their suite style room in record time to open the door to the barrel of a gun.

Thessaly quickly dropped it down and waved them both inside with it. Several hurricane grade flashlights were set up around the kitchen away from the window.

“Some one else’s team is here.”

Irene swore loudly and then started to pace,

“Is CeCe alright? Has she reported back?”

“Last ten minute check in was all clear but who knows now, it’s been eight minutes.”

“Shit. God fucking damnit. Do we know how many there are? What their systems and weapons might be?”

“Judging from how they rerouted emergency power away from the cache we had set up to trap the data I’d say better hardware than us and probably some heavy duty bots.”

“ Bloody fucking hell. Okay. CeCe’s the best so hopefully she can handle the tech but she’s bollocks at firing a gun. First priority is getting every one out of this alive, second is the data. We’re all going after her together.”

“If your first priority is life I suggest you and Miss Hooper exit the premise and type in the activation code for extraction. I’ll handle getting CeCe out.”

Irene shook her head,

“No. I’m not splitting us up. I know it’s more work for you but I’m fairly competent in combat, hah don’t give me that look, and Molly knows how to run. We’re coming.”

Thessaly shook her head and muttered something before reaching behind her back to pull out another gun, handing it to Irene. She glared at Molly and said,

“If you pray to your ghosts do it now.”

Suddenly singled out she felt so helpless. No one was responding to her calls and she had the same horrible feeling she had the night she had told Timothy when he was going to die. The smell of burning wood and screaming rushed back and she was fighting back sobs.

Irene’s hand was rubbing comforting circles into her back as she whispered lowly next to her,

“Hey now. Don’t worry I do this all the time, that’s why Thessaly was rolling her eyes, we’ll be fine just stay close.”

Molly shook her head to clear it but the sick and heavy stone still remained in her stomach.

They crept into the hallway back towards the stairwell, Thessaly at the front, Irene right behind her, and Molly trailing up the back. They reached Hillburn’s floor but as soon they opened the door smoke came rolling out,

“Ben Zonah!”

Thessaly barked the curse and pushed them all back into the stairwell as shots rang out in the dark smoke filled hallway.

“Is there a fire?!”

Molly watched as the smoke swirled towards them out of the still open door they were hiding behind. Irene shook her head in the dim red emergency lighting,

“No it’s from smoke grenades. The smell is noticeably different compared to burning hotel.”

Thessaly jerked her head back and said,

“Most of the shots are from Hillburn’s men. There are at least two other operatives shooting very precisely and killing them in the smoke, which suggests they have infrared goggles and are the ones who set off the bombs. You should continue down the stairs for extraction.”

Irene’s face turned to cold stone,

“I know who it is, or at least who they are working for. CeCe is either dead or in terrible danger. We have to go now and I’m not letting you go alone. Molly if you want to come with you may but it’s Moriarty.”

She stiffened. There was something very important on that hard drive. Irene had said it was just a list of names, which might be true, but Molly knew instantly what kind of list of names would be so important to one James Moriarty right now.

“I have to come. I don’t have time to tell you why but I know what’s on that hard drive and we can’t let him have it. Even if we have to die destroying it.”

Irene and Thessaly both looked stunned but then turned back to the loud cracks and pops of the guns from the hallway.

“Fine but we’re having a long chat when we get home, after the long bath, long nap, long lunch, and long lovemaking, got it?”

Molly smiled as much as she could given the circumstances and Irene’s catlike grin encouraged her as Thessaly dove stealthily into the hallway and the sea of smoke and bullets.

They kept to the left wall and made their way down to the end of the hallway to an almost identical suite to their own. Most of the action appeared to be going on inside when there was a blinding flash and the sound of shattering glass.

Irene ducked her head but Molly had been looking directly into it and was now seeing nothing but painful white as her eyes tried to readjust to the room. She felt Irene’s hand on her shoulder and then heard her whisper.

“Close your eyes and count to thirty, it should be better. Thessaly went in I’m staying with you until you can see then we’ll follow.”

She nodded and slowly counted while frantically trying to calm down. She wouldn’t be any good scared witless because that was a flash grenade and those were gunshots and that’s how people died. But it wasn’t the fear of her own death that was paralyzing her.

She cared about Thessaly and very violently, Irene. Her own death she could handle, if you looked at Molly’s life you might say she’d been dead for a long time. But suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to be alive with Irene and the rest of her mismatched crew of companions.

For the first time since the fire she was afraid to die.

There was a loud crash of glass shattering and when she opened her eyes everything was watery and gray tinged around the edges but she fought back the tears by rapidly blinking at Irene until the world came back in to focus. Then she nodded and they both ducked in to the chaos of Hillburn’s suite.

Everything seemed extremely slowed down and yet it happened in a matter of seconds. Irene pulled a gun from the top of her slacks she had stuffed her dress ends into and shot a man dead center in his forehead before charging past in through the open adjoining door.

A shot rang out and she was rushing forward towards Irene and the gun shot when she saw Celia crouched in the corner behind a tall black server with a heavy looking automatic pistol.

“Cece you almost blew my fucking head off!”

“Good thing I’m such a shit shot I was trying to.”

They both broke down in to nearly manic giggles as Molly ducked behind the door and eyed them both.

“So did you get the external?”

“Does my name start with C and end with awesome? Yes I got it but right after I plugged in the shooting started and I freaked out for thirty seconds before actually trying to find the damn files. Instead I found the actual external plugged into the outlet over here. Fucking brilliant morons. You can’t connect to the Internet directly through an electrical outlet.”

“Alright let’s get Thessaly and get out of here.”

Molly’s heart stopped because coming out of the hall directly in front of her was a spirit wearing the same shirt as Timothy had been. She was probably about to die.

“Oh is that her name? She’s been cursing at me in Hebrew for the last two minutes so I’ve just been calling her Kalba.”

All three of them turned slowly to face the man in the doorway who was holding a bloodied knife to Thessaly’s lacerated throat and lower jaw.  

“And look at who decided to show her ungrateful face again. What was that Jim said about you failing to deliver? Oh yeah he was going to make you into shoes. He was awfully sore about not being able to follow through. Doesn’t matter much now does it?”

“Hello Mr. Moran. I thought I’d never have the deep misfortune of ever seeing you again. How horrific.”

But she delivered the line like it was the warmest greeting you would give to a cherished friend.  He shook his cropped blonde head and pressed another long deep cut from Thessaly’s ear to chin,

“Really now’s not the time. You can either give me the drive and I’ll let you have a thirty second head start or you can watch as I slit her throat and try to outrun me to the door. Personally I’d recommend option number one.”

Irene held out a hand to CeCe and when she had the flash drive she stepped forward but Molly blurted out “Don’t!” Suddenly every one’s eyes were on her.

Thessaly nodded ever so slightly at her and Moran’s thick arms squeezed her tighter and the knife drew more blood. Irene looked at her but shook her head gravely. Entire sentences were flying between them but she could feel the hands of the dead creeping closer up the back of her spine. When she handed it to him her fingers brushed his palm.

Irene froze in horror for a second before she and Thessaly sprung back from him heading past the room’s bathroom to unlock the front door.

It only took a second but CeCe and Molly were right behind them dashing for the emergency staircase.

Irene was taking four stairs at a time while typing in the extraction code on her phone. Meanwhile Thessaly was trying to return fire at Moran and his men who were shooting down the staircase as they ran down it after them. Right before they hit the ground level Irene put her phone in her bra and pulled out a smaller gun from an ankle holster before plunging in to the pitch-black hotel lobby.

The muzzle flash of a gun went off two meters to their left and Thessaly shot the man nearly point blank before Irene ran past him into a second man elbowing him hard in the nose and then in the crotch before he went down in a pathetic heap.

As soon as they stepped outside the hotel a crowd of wedding reception guests and emergency vehicles met them. Thessaly pulled her black trench coat up to hide most of the blood as they wove their way through the crowd towards the main street. A nondescript black SUV was waiting there for them and Irene opened the door and shoved everyone in to the back seat.

 Kate put the car in gear and took off at a steady pace away from the hotel. Molly heard a mewl and realized that Toby was in his cat carrier very upset in the back trunk. She almost burst into relieved laughter and tears right there.

Kate must have braved being shot in order to retrieve him and the rest of their stuff from their room. Either that or Thessaly could be in more than one place at once, which she honestly wouldn’t put past her. When they made it to the airport there was a field surgeon waiting there sipping gin. She seemed really bored with having to stitch Thessaly up but the rest of the group was on edge.

“He’s one of us.”

Molly turned to meet Irene’s haunted stare and she nodded.

“You knew! Why didn’t you tell me?! We went in there unprepared and almost died because of it!”

“I can’t talk about things they won’t let me talk about! It’s not how that works. Believe me I wanted to. Do you honestly think I wanted any one to get hurt?”

“Well that’s what happened because we didn’t know Sebastian Moran was going to be there with an army of men and superpowers!”

Molly flinched and started pacing the isle up and down the back of the plane.

“The list has got names of others like us. He’s using Moran to steal people’s abilities until they find the person who has the Gift of giving powers to other people instead of taking them from them.”

Irene went completely white and CeCe’s eyes were huge,

“He wants what he should never be aloud to possess.”

Thessaly croaked through a layer of painkillers and sutures while the medic whacked her arm and told her to shut up in something that sounded like Polish accented English.

“And I gave him the list. Just let him murder dozens maybe hundreds more like me, people I’ve hoped existed since I was nine, so I could save the people I care most about in this world. I don’t regret it but it makes me want to kill him.”

“Somebody needs to fucking do it the man is like Voldemort before the horocruxes. He’s a diadem away from being invincible.”

CeCe was shaking and clutching her computer to her chest.

“But I managed to save a copy of all the names. Maybe we can get to them first. Save them.”

Irene nodded her head and touched her arm before and went past where Thessaly was laid out across two blood covered cream-colored leather seats,

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes. Some were deep but most are superficial. She should be on bed rest for a week though.”

“No. This man threatens my life and livelihood. I will not stop till that debt is repaid.”

“Oh don’t worry. I think each of us has damn enough reason to want to destroy that man.”

“I think I might know some people who can help.”

Every one turned to Molly and she stood up straight and looked Irene in the eyes,

“I promise not to keep anything from you. I will tell you straight next time that I literally cannot talk about what I have just learned because there is a ghost hand in my throat. Let me help.”

Irene sighed and went into the back of the plane where her bedroom was. Molly hesitated but followed.

She was taking off her now blood soaked dress and unzipping her trousers but Molly didn’t look away. There was something fragile and tired about the stoop of her back and shoulders as she sat down heavily on the bed in nothing but her underwear.

She approached carefully and sat down next to her.

“I would have done it too. It’s not your fault.”

“Stop. Just stop.”

But instead of pushing her away Irene pulled her into a crushing hug dragging her on top of her. Both of them clung to each other on the bed not speaking a word simply staring up at the dark ceiling.

She must have fallen asleep because when she woke up Irene was no longer in bed. When she walked out into the main cabin she was greeted by Irene, CeCe, and Toby all eating breakfast. She slowly sat down and poured herself a cuppa.

“So what’s the plan O fearless leader? You said we had to wait for Cassandra here to wake up so what’s the plan of attack.”

Irene shook her head and turned to take in her disheveled appearance appraisingly,

“Can you tell me now what you saw on the train.”

She sighed and told both of them everything. Molly could tell CeCe was practically bursting out of her skin with questions like Irene had been she had first witnessed her leave her body. But Irene seemed oddly cold,

“So I take it you meant the Holmes’, Doctor Watson, and perhaps D.I. Lestrade as the people who could help?”

She nodded and said,

“The might not have powers but Sherlock is who he’s after in the long run so they’ll all be involved anyhow. It would probably be better for them to know the whole story, or at least most of what we know so they’re not going in blind.”

“You mean like we did last night?”

She flinched and looked down into her now cold tea. Maybe at first she hadn’t wanted to tell Irene everything but now they were a team and the idea of withholding information that turned out to be endangering others made her feel sick.

But her hands had been tied till that moment, she knew it when Irene had touched Moran’s hand and the others had left her.

She stood and said in a low hollow voice,

“I’m sorry but there was no way for me to have told you before then. It’s not how my power works. I’m sorry Thessaly got injured. It won’t happen again because I think I’ll just stay out of your way from now on.”

And with that she walked woodenly back to the bedroom in the tail of the plane.

Molly had only been staring at the ceiling for a couple minutes before the door to the bedroom opened quickly and snicked shut loudly.

She felt Irene sit down roughly at the foot of the bed but didn’t sit up to greet her. There was nothing more for her to say, she didn’t belong in her life after all and once all this Moriarty business was done she would leave.

“I don’t like being betrayed. It’s happened so much you’d think I’d be used to it now but it still hurts as much as the first time.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, instead the tears just streamed down her cheeks, molten and silent. Irene laid down next to her and then turned on her side to face her.

She stopped jostling her when she saw the tears and gently brushed them away with her red nailed fingers.

Molly flinched at the action and she pulled away and laid on her back facing away from her.

“I don’t think it was you who betrayed me this time though. It was your damned ghosts so I want you to let them know they’re on my shit list until further notice.”

The laugh that ripped from her throat was much too loud for their surroundings but Irene didn’t seem to mind as she shifted closer and whispered in her ear,

“May I touch you?”

Molly froze. She didn't know if it was wishful thinking on both their parts that this would work out. But at the moment she didn't care.

“Yes. Anything you want.”

It came out in one string of words and Irene huffed a laugh against her bare neck.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

She turned her head and their eyes locked,

“I don’t flinch because I’m afraid you’ll hurt me or that something will hurt, I flinch away because I’m afraid to feel anything. It’s been so long.”

And then she moved like lightning to shift herself between her legs,

“Tell me what you need.”

Her breath was coming in sharp gasps of anticipation and she shivered as Irene’s hands rubbed tentative circles above her bare knees.

It had been a couple weeks since she had even touched herself and couple years since her last fumbling sexual encounter. She needed everything but there wasn’t words or time.

“Can you? With your mouth, please, um on my, on me down there. Oh God.”

She flung her arm over her eyes to hide how red her face was, she knew what she wanted but for some reason the words had left her. Irene chuckled softly,

“Already I have you speaking in broken phrases. I must be just that good.”

That made her laugh and then whimper as Irene ducked down under the rumpled hem of her dress and started kissing and gently nipping at her inner thighs. All the while gently rubbing her legs farther apart and into a higher position over Irene’s shoulders.

And then she was licking and nipping at her through her very expensive navy knickers using the satin and lace as friction and breathing hot on the newly wet fabric.

She didn’t have time to think about how much they cost when Irene shoved them to the side put two long tongue licks down her folds.

She squeaked unattractively and Irene immediately stopped and looked up at her. She didn’t know what her face looked like but the smile she got was blinding and she nodded frantically for her to keep going and she did.

Alternating between tongue and fingers and kneading her thighs and arse in time with the thrusts of her tongue and she was so close to her orgasm when Irene sucked hard at her clit making her thrust and dig her heels into her back while swearing loudly.

Irene’s appreciative hums and loud slurping noises against her were actually what made her come in violent shudders as her vision flashed in and out of focus. Afterward she could barely move, reduced to a puddle of exhausted and hazy satisfaction, Irene’s head rested gently on her stomach.

“Should I?”

“Not now. You might find this hard to believe but that was just as enjoyable for me as it was for you. I’ve wanted to do that since we met. If we had had time I would have had you all over that beautiful suite, in the Jacuzzi tub, on that wrap around couch.”

“Oh God.”

She was tired but the thought of it was still making her pant a little.

Since when had she become just as bad as Irene? Well not that she was complaining mind you it was just a different state for her.

To feel this strongly and have it returned hurt more than the little unrequited crush she had been protecting for years. She felt raw and wet in more ways than one.

“But we’ll have plenty of time for that in nicer places than that I’m sure.”

Molly attempted to sit up on her elbows but Irene pushed her carefully back down.

“So you’re planning on keeping me around then? Decided the fuss was worth it?”

Irene murmured in to her wild hair across the pillow,

“Darling the fuss is at least half the reason for keeping you around.”

She laughed softly and couldn’t remember what they had talked about after that because she drifted off to sleep. When she woke up Irene was rummaging around the bedroom throwing clothes on the bed and her lap,

“Time to go out and greet the day love! We have a lot of planning and half the fun of today is going to be avoiding the entirety of the British Government so time to suit up.”

“I could really use a shower first actually.”

Irene grinned and pointed to the back right corner where there was a small door,

“Right through there but make it a quick one.”

Molly grabbed a pair of trousers off the bed and a blouse and rushed in to the bathroom to shower and change. It felt good to be clean but it was going to take more time than she would have liked to dry her hair so she put it up in a tightly wound bun and ran out into the bedroom to find it empty.

Hopping her way into a pair of Mary Janes she made her way out in to the main cabin to find Irene and CeCe already leaving the plane. Thessaly was nowhere to be found which would have been disconcerting if she didn’t know how tough she was already.

Once they were in a sleek black town car with another unknown woman at the wheel Irene handed her her phone,

“Take this, there is some news you should get caught up on.”

Molly clumsily scrolled through several news articles about unsolved murders, the break in at the tower of London by Jim Moriarty, and the hero Sherlock Holmes. With each flickering word she grew more and more tense.

“He’s built him up on purpose. He’s going to tear him down.”

Irene nodded and took back her phone, the mere fact that she had so casually handed it to her made her throat knot up. There were too many ifs in their situation but she had hope surprisingly.

“Sherlock most certainly has figured that out as well. Which means that there is a second Game being played, one with other characters and pawns, one that won’t be fun if either loses.”

She swallowed hard,

“John and Moran then. Possibly Mrs. Hudson, Greg, and Mycroft.”

Irene waved her hand at the last part,

“No he won’t go for Mycroft, the man is practically untouchable. Also Sherlock wouldn’t be too off-put if anything were to happen to him. But you’re right on the other three. He’s got snipers and assassins on all of them to make Sherlock dance.”

Then how where they going to stop them? They could only be in two places at once unless they asked Mycroft for help which would definitely put them at a disadvantage even if it helped them beat Moriarty.

“Do you, after, what four days of knowing me, honestly believe I don’t have an army of my own? Sherlock with his homeless network, Jim with his web. Who do you think is cleaning their rooms, busing their tables, rearing and teaching their children, sucking their cocks? All the people they overlook belong to me and have for a long time.”

Molly raised her eyebrows and Irene’s grin became shark-like,

“I’ve got some calls to make and then you’re going to go back to Barts like nothing has happened. I’ll handle the web I’m trusting you and your ghosts to take out The Spider.”

She wasn’t sure if her trust was warranted but she nodded as they drove silently like a wolf through the streets of London.

Sherlock was sitting on the linoleum block floor bouncing a rubber ball off of the clean white cabinets when she bustled back into her lab, arms full of lunch. He startled and immediately stumbled to his feet as she tossed a bag of crisps at him.

“Here’s lunch. What do you need me to do?”

He stared at her blankly, the ever verbose Sherlock Holmes at a loss for words. Had she really changed that much since he had last seen her?

She must have because the look in his eyes was like he had never seen her before. There was wonder but also calculating deductions starting to manifest themselves behind his cold blue eyes.

“I should be asking that of you. My brother has been searching for you in Kent but something tells me you never were there.”

“Not even close. Just got back from Ontario. You shouldn’t be asking me about that though. By my calculations you have about an hour left to be mobile and actually make a difference before he shows up, maybe less. What’s the plan?”

Again that same stunned expression, she had struck him dumb twice in one day, it was probably some sort of record.

She shouldn’t have been enjoying this a thoroughly as she was but she couldn’t help it. All those years of being tormented by this man she was finally getting hers a little bit.

“I need your help in faking my death. Everyone must believe me to be dead, especially John.”

She snorted and sat down in front of her work station kicking her legs against the leg of her chair,

“That’s the big plan? Make the only people in the world who give a damn about you think you’re dead to what? Protect them? Living some sort of miserable half-life is preferable to death I suppose.  What if I told you that would fail what would you say?”

“I’d say you’re full of it.”

She laughed warmly at that.

“Fine if you don’t believe I have a better plan perhaps you’d believe it of Irene. She’s taking out the snipers he has on Mrs. Hudson and D.I. Lestrade as we speak. All that will be left is Moran on John so go meet with Moriarty if you must but realize you don’t have to play the Game.”

“What makes you so sure you can do all this? That she can do all this?”

He appeared to he genuinely concerned, maybe even a little bit scared,

“The same thing that lets me know _Treasure Island_ was your favorite book as a boy.”

“What?”

She smiled and said,

“Or the reason you started taking drugs was to cope with emotions you had suppressed for too long, emotions you claimed not to have, that left you unable to deal with the death of your Mum.”

“How. How could you possibly?”

“You see but you do not observe Sherlock. Sometimes the most ordinary things around you are the most extraordinary. You might believe John is fluke but really every one who cares for you is brilliant in their own way. Maybe you should start trusting us to look after you as well as ourselves.”

He looked at her with his sharpest gaze but then down at his hands,

“What would you have me do? Please don’t tell me it will be laughably simple.”

She opened her own bag of crisps and took a bite of her sandwich, speaking through a half full mouth,

“Probably. First tell me everything you know about Richard Brooke and Jim Moriarty. Then it will be your turn to listen."

Miraculously he did listen. But too soon it was time for the finale.

She left her body behind because she knew it wouldn’t be as difficult this way. Moriarty had him cornered on St. Bart’s rooftop but Sherlock wasn’t the victim just yet.

He still didn’t entirely believe her but no matter, he had sought out her assistance in his own way and that was enough. Molly was terrified of what she would find but this was the only way. The man had obtained unimaginable power simply by virtue of his mind, now he held just as much in his body.

If he had known what she was when he had been shamming her would she still be alive? Would she have met Irene? What if he had known about Irene’s power? All the possibilities faded to gray with the final problem before her.

Because he didn’t know.

Because these two, perhaps three if you counted Mycroft, great geniuses overlooked the women around them simply because of the stereotypes of their sex. Science was the new God and Sherlock a priest before its’ alter but even some one so devout could have their judgment clouded by ingrained societal constructs. There was a great honking difference between explicit and implicit minds.

And Irene had mastered the manipulation of these thoughts ages ago. It was what allowed them to do this now.

She reached her ghostly hand in to the back of his head and all the lights went out.

It wasn’t an ambient darkness though; it was like all light had been shunted violently from the world. There was nothing but cold empty night. So she started pushing through it, pushing forward, trying to find something to pull and manipulate. It had been a long time since she had tried this but she remembered all too clearly what it would take.

How to go about manipulating someone’s mind and spirit. It might have already been twisted and vile but she could warp it in other ways. Shockingly her gift was possibly one of the most dangerous ones out there she just never dared to use it in this way.

The darkness pushed back and she was unable to go very far through it but fortunately or unfortunately she saw a circle of light on the floor up ahead and it seemed to grow closer without her moving.

It stopped right before touching her toes and she was able to see the silhouettes cast starkly in the center. It was Jim or Richard, or perhaps more accurately the Spider of a man with Sherlock strapped to a chair. His hands were painfully bound and dripping blood and clear puss, his face a mess of thin scalpel cuts that had bled and crusted over from being pulled open repeatedly. He looked a mess but his eyes were still a fierce cold blue, taking in the whole scene. Molly wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was true or not because she didn’t know what power Sebastian had given him.

Perhaps the ability to draw Sherlock into his mind was real or just a figment but at this moment her priority was Moriarty.

There could be no distractions.

So she drew in the pieces of herself, all the bits she hated and feared, all her power and the fuzzy edges of her soul into bright contrast and she summoned him. His true name, the name of his essence rang out in to the abyss like a low war cry. Hollow, fierce, and full of pull. She felt him materialize before her sight registered it. He was all razor blade smiles,

“Miss Molly! How delightful, if unexpected. Welcome to my little story show, you made it just in time for the final act.”

She shook her head and avoided stepping into the light. When he took steps towards her she skirted the edge of the circle away from him. It felt safer even though she knew she was in his mind and all of it was deadly. He tsked at her actions but continued to look elated,

“I should have asked you out on a second date. Who knows what fun we could have had you and I. But now I see you’ve moved on. Lovely woman if a bit bossy that Woman.”

To her credit she didn’t flinch but she couldn’t stop the cold sweat of panic that started to soak the air around her.

“You’re so alone.”

His face didn’t change but he stopped stalking her around the circle. He laughed then. It was screeching and mad and echoed painfully around her, shaking her up like a struck tuning fork.

“Just because you’re a little bit more than human now doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly got more friends to play with. Sherlock is probably the only one who could match you move for move and he’s not even one of us.”

 A shadow flickered over his face but that reptilian smile still held fast as he started to come towards her. This time she held her spot and braced herself for an attack.  

But he stopped before her, high contrast in the spot light while she was entirely invisible in the shadows.

“You don’t want to play along any more Little Red? Pity you seemed like you were so full of surprises.”

His hand shot out to seize her throat but it went right through it. She cast her Sight upon him and tried not to cry out.

It was torturous his soul, like thousands of screeches etched into a throat dry and barren of all emotion but murderous glee. He was raw and dripping flayed of all his skin, just muscle, ichor, and bones and yet he was wrapped in a sheath of steel. Some sort of industrial metal plating that was holding the gore inside keeping it clean and pretty and deadly sharp in a suit.

The very thought of touching him made sparks of panic white and black dots dance before her but before she could recoil she latched on. He howled in laughter but didn’t try to shake her off. Instead she could feel him drawing her in with hooked barbs, fingers of sticky black. Molly took two deep breaths and then spoke without her mouth.

_Why don’t you want to watch telly like your brother? Why don’t you go play some footie with the other boys down the street? What’s wrong Rick? Maybe you’d have more friends if you went out for a sport. Would you like some more brown sauce on that? Oh look we have a spot of rain today, don’t forget your rain slicker._

“Stop. Stop it, none of it matters! It’s all useless now you worthless insufferable bitch!”

_There once was a little prince who raged all the time. He was cruel to his family and liked to play alone in the woods. One day a bigger boy, the huntsman’s son, found him playing like that. The bigger boy broke him into jagged pieces like the cat he had been playing with. The prince was changed._

_He took the skin of the beast and killed the huntsman’s son. No one but a tiny page, not yet a knight, saw what the prince had done. No one for a thousand years would notice that a monster had replaced their prince. And when the prince could take no more of the charade he found the page that had become a knight, a black knight but one of the people nonetheless._

_And they played a game of chess. Chess that neither could truly win. The prince was cleverer but that was the end. Because without the knight to play with there was no point. No one else even tried to play with the prince. He would fade to dust and ruin before he found another like himself. So the prince put a gun in his mouth and blew his fucking brains out._

“No. No I’ve won don’t you see? He is clever, just a clever as me. ‘I’ll give you three guesses to guess my name,’ and he knows it. That’s all that matters.”

She faltered but then stepped into the light of the circle.

It was like being cleaved in half.

She was a faded drab thing, hunched in an old comfortable jumper like being pressed on by rocks. The rest of her locked safely away in the emptiness around the stage.

Because that’s what this was. He wanted it to be the final act. The problem was that he wanted to take Sherlock with him. For them both to have one last hurrah and then vanish. But now things were changing. She was loosing all color, a sallow tope colored jumper-clad girl. Nothing special, nothing important.

Jim attempted to wrench his arm away from her but she held fast.

“Look I may be able to do one thing other people can’t but I am just like them. There’s nothing special about me, about Sherlock, and there’s nothing special about you Richard.”

She flung out her other hand and grabbed Sherlock by the collar dragging him to stand next to her. He too faded to gray and hunched over, a bumbling version of his usually obsidian sharp self.

“No. No I won’t be fooled by you little act Meager Molly. We all know what it means to be special. Even little old you!”

“That might be true Rick but Sherlock is fooled. Look at him.”

And suddenly they were in 221B and John was sitting on the couch reading a newspaper with Sherlock’s feet in his lap while the consulting detective thought loudly, his hands steepled. Then the scene shifted to Sherlock and John panting in an alley leaning against a wall laughing and when they looked at each other there was nothing there but adoration and love.

Next they were in the stairway up to John’s room and Sherlock had him pinned to the wall, there was barely any space between them and they were both breathing heavily through their mouths.

It was hard to tell which one closed the gap first but suddenly they were kissing and pulling each other up the stairs towards John’s room.

The door slamed with a hollow thump and Moriarty howled in rage while he tried to chew through his arm to break her sticky grip.

She stayed fast though and attempted to show him more but he flailed violently and it was getting harder and harder for her to hold on because she was in agony from doing so. Most of her spirit was ripped raw from his hatred and malice and if she didn’t let go now she might not like what happened next.

If she held on she might die for good. Suddenly everything stopped.

The spot light went out and she couldn’t tell whether or not she was still holding onto of anything because it feels like he’s all around her, trying to crush her and blow her away like dust.

She looked at Sherlock’s face, his hair shifting in the cold wind on the rooftop of St. Bart’s.

“I can still save them as long as you’re still alive.”

Suddenly there was a gun in her hand and the voice that came out of her mouth was cold and foreign,

“Good luck with that.”

There was the heavy gun in her hand and she realized too late to scream or to stop it what his ability truly is. She can hear him laughing as the trigger clicked the hammer down and the crack of the gun knocked the back of her head off.

That was not the end, she was jerked from his mind and body but she wasn’t going to let him have hers.

They fought and he jerked her in every direction trying to rip her into unrecognizable chunks.

The wind was screeching in her ears and it felt like she was being pushed through a jet engine, everything was wind screaming and red-hot pain.

She howled back against the noise until there was no sound any more and she was alone in a stark black forest all clad in white except for a red hood that she flung to the ground. Nothing greeted her but the roar of the wind in the decaying trees and a low growl.

Quick Molly was running as fast as her bare feet would carry her over the dead wood strewn earth.

The ground shook from the leaps and thumps of the thing chasing her but she didn’t dare stop. There was fast approaching a cliff over a cavernous maw but the thing chasing her wouldn’t stop so neither would she. The edge came up to greet her and the thing bit at her heels.

Instead of facing it she jumped but didn’t fall, instead she flew straight back into her own head to sounds of agonized and furious howls.

When she opened her eyes again it was to the worried face of Sherlock.

Molly sat up and he gave her space and did a double take at her eyes before silently offering her a hand up. They walked over to the ledge and she turned to him,

“You need to go down to meet him right now because he’s going to punch you in the face and then kiss you.”

“That’s only one of the many variable possibilities, what makes you so sure that-”

“He loves you you giant git and you almost convinced him you were going to kill yourself in front of him. Go down stairs.”

He stared at her blank faced before mumbling,

“What about you?”

She smiled cooly and mimicked his earlier tones,

“I’m going home with Irene to do the same thing John’s going to do to you. Run along.”

And with that she shooed a very confused Sherlock Holmes off the roof back down the stairs to meet his very mad and very relieved best friend/partner/soul mate.

She shook her head and went out one of the hospital’s back basement alleyways that residents used to smoke.

And waiting for her there was a very familiar black town car.

“Why Miss Hooper fancy meeting you here.”

“I take it Moran and the others are taken care of?”

“Would I be here if they weren’t?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Get in the car so I can kiss you.”

She rolled her eyes fondly and got in the car next to Irene. She pounced and their hands and lips were all over each other.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Both were panting and neither wanted to stop but Molly smoothed down her blouse and murmured,

“I was in his head. Moran gave him the power to steal other people’s bodies.”

“Christ.”

“He was trying to get into Sherlock’s I think but he got into mine instead. I obviously chased him out after he had already destroyed his own body.”

Irene quickly looked her over and nodded, apparently satisfied that she wasn’t possessed by Moriarty.

“What about you?”

“The assassins on Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were easily taken care of it was just Moran who was a bit of work. I had him pinned and obviously he hadn’t realized that his power wouldn’t work on me but he tried to shoot me in chest. The gun was half way up his thigh when the side of his head crumpled in like a rotten pumpkin and blew out the back.”

“I looked up across the clock tower to see Thessaly shrug and mouth ‘Ooops’ before walking calmly back down the stairs. He really should have known better than to fuck with her. People don’t do that and live.”

Molly shivered and nodded. So it really was over. And at the end of it she was still with Irene. Oddly enough that was the most amazing thing about today. She leaned against her shoulder and sighed. Who knew doing psychic battle for your soul could be so exhausting?

This day had been too long and needed to end with Thai food and a full night’s sleep. Well possibly a full night’s sleep and then morning sex. They could save the rest of the world again tomorrow.

After all that was their new job now it seemed. And they would do it together.

 

 

 


End file.
